#Its not enough to be a decent pick lock he has to be able to do everything to survive

[ciderjacks]

Chilchuck is one of those special characters where you learn about his past and you go “ohhhh that explains a lot” except where for most characters this happens like once or maybe twice, with Chilchuck it happens literally any time you learn anything at all about him, and every time it’s explaining a different thing he has going on.

[mncxbe]

i have a angsty smut request. Could you write an aku x fem reader where they both have a really passionate sex the day before him and atsushi fights fukuchi, because they feel like they won't ever see each other again (they're kind of right sob)?

yes of course. I'm not used to writing angst so I hope I did a decent job jsdhhdjd but anyway thanks for requesting. I really loved writing this. Enjoy♡

9:59♡

𝑨𝒌𝒖𝒕𝒂𝒈𝒂𝒘𝒂 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: smut♡/ angst

°☆○

Ever since the night he met up with his former mentor, your boyfriend has been extremely anxious. It wasn’t unusual for him to obey Dazai’s orders even after the brunette left him and you weren’t one to judge; except this time, it affected your relationship.

After days of unsuccessful attempts at convincing Akutagawa to tell you about the mission, he finally admitted that it was incredibly dangerous.

“Dazai entrusted me with this task because he knew I am the only one who can do it.” he said in a hoarse voice.

“And you accepted? Even if you knew you could die?”

“Of course. I couldn’t possibly refuse Dazai he’s-“

“Oh you shut it!” you suddenly snapped at him “All you care about is pleasing that asshole. Please, stop putting yourself in danger for him. This is not your battle, love.”

That morning he left without sparing you another glance and throughout the day all you could think about was your argument. Yes, the situation wasn’t ideal. Yes, even he half-heartedly admitted that he may die. But if these truly were your last days together you wanted to make the most of them, not to waste precious time on hopeless fights. And so you decided to surprise him with a home cooked dinner and a freshly brewed cup of his favourite tea.

That evening you waited anxiously for your boyfriend’s arrival. When the door of your shared apartment closed shut, you rose yourself from the couch and tip-toed to the hallway.

“Ryu, love I’m sorry for today. I made us some~"

You were quickly cut short by his lips harshly pressing against yours.

“Ryu what are you doing?” you mumbled between kisses.

“Just shut up and kiss me” he said lowly: his slender fingers tangled in your hair, slightly pulling at it.

His daring actions made your knees wobble and you gently pressed your palms against his heaving chest in an attempt to find some support.

Your boyfriend didn’t break the kiss as he hurriedly guided you to the bedroom, pushing you onto the soft mattress. Soon enough, his lips found their way to your neck, leaving a trail of love bites along its expanse.

A ragged moan escaped your lips as he sucked on your sweet spot, causing him to groan against your skin.

One of his fingers hooked under the wristband of your shorts and he swiftly yanked them off, leaving you in your underwear.

“You’re so beautiful, my darling” he whispered against the shell of your ear; his hot breath sending shivers of pleasure down your spine.

He kept his gaze locked with yours as he haphazardly unbuckled his belt and slid off his pants, low enough to be able to free his painfully hard cock from his boxers, before pushing himself into you. His sudden actions made you cry out, a mixture of pain and pleasure like hot syrup clouding your mind as you grasped the sheets beneath you.

"Are you ok now?” he eventually asked; and the moment you nodded in agreement he picked up the pace. Each of his deep thrusts caused whimpers and high-pitched moans to leave your parted lips. Soon enough his hands found their way under your blouse, fumbling with the hook of your bra.

“’s too much love please” you uttered between whines while he started moving slowly, allowing you to adjust to him.

“Nah Ryu lemme take it off f’ your” you mumbled, trying to support yourself on your forearms but his digits curled around your throat, shoving you back onto the mattress.

“Just stay there baby. Be good and stay put” A black tendril swiftly snaked under your clothes and cut through the flimsy material of your bra, exposing your chest.

Desire burned in Akutagawa’s eyes as he leaned in, his teeth sinking into the tender flesh of your breasts. You let out a string of muffled sounds, causing the grip on his throat to tighten.

Your boyfriend picked up the pace again and you rolled your eyes back. One of your hands abandoned the crumpled sheets and squeezed his wrist, signaling him that you were out of breath and he quickly let go of you, allowing you to breathe properly. It didn’t take more than a few minutes for you to get close to your high; his relentless pace mixed with the lovely sounds he was making allowed heat to pool inside your core.

“Love please I’m so close don’t stop now” you slurred, thighs squeezing the sides of his torso.

Your boyfriend watched your ecstatic expression with half lidded eyes: your eyes were shut tight and you were biting down on your lower lip in attempt to contain the lewd sounds you were making. He himself was drowning in pleasure, your warm walls wrapping around him like vise as he buried his cock deep inside you.

“Shit. You’re squeezing me so tight, love” he babbled out, breath fanning over your mouth as he captured your lips in a feverish kiss.

You moaned at his words, the sound of your voice almost sending him over the edge.

“Just cum for me, pretty. Make a mess on me.” He said in a honeyed voice, tugging at your hair once again “Open your eyes. I need to see how good I make you feel baby” he mumbled between grunts. The digits of his free hand dug deep into the plush of your thigh, nails leaving crescent marks on your plump skin.

Your lids slowly fluttered open, allowing your boyfriend to relish your fucked out gaze; it was all it took for him to finally reach his orgasm. He didn’t cease his motion as he came inside you, his hand pushing down on your belly.

“You feel how deep I am baby? No one will ever make you feel like this ever again” he slurred, silver eyes rolling back as he started circling your clit with his thumb. “I need you to cum for me tonight, love. Please.”

Need, need, need. He never needed anything from you before, not unless he was badly injured after a fight or almost losing his breath during a coughing fit. No, he never truly needed anything from you unless he felt like was about to die. As your gaze met your boyfriend’s once again, you could see the pearly tears that brimmed in them, threatening to spill out. Surprisingly enough he didn’t try to hide it; he simply kept moving in and out of you at a steady rhythm.

“Please love please, please, please” he chanted as his lips met yours once again, causing the knot in your stomach to snap. Your back arched in pleasure as your orgasm washed over you.

Akutagawa guided you through your high, hands caressing your soft skin as he whispered sweet nothings in your ear. When you finally managed to regain your breath he pulled out and rested his head on your shoulder. His body grew limp in your embrace as you carefully slipped his clothes off of him and neatly folded them, placing them at the foot of your bed.

You were now both laying naked in bed with your fingers intertwined, a simple gesture of affection.

“I’m leaving tomorrow” he finally said, and by the slight tremble of his voice you knew what he meant. He was leaving and was probably never going to come back.

You gave his hand a gentle squeeze as you pulled him into a tight hug. “I love you, Ryu” you whispered, trying to contain the tears that blurred your vision. You needed to be strong for both of you.

Akutagawa’s arms snaked around your waist as he nestled himself against your frame, relishing your presence. “I love you too, Y/N” he said quietly before allowing your tender ministrations to lull him into a slumber.

You fell asleep entangled with your boyfriend, wishing for the first time that you would never wake up. Because you knew what awaited you the next day.

Outside cards drove by aimlessly, the loud hum of cicadas filling the hot summer night.

[thekoalapastriesbakery]

Omg can i get more komodo dragon!reader holding the komodo dragon that was found on track that one time? Like reader and the komodo just stop and stare at each other when the dragon runs past the merc garage, then next thing anyone knows reader is holding a suddenly docile 200lb komodo dragon like its a baby and everyone on track except for charles and oscar are Concerned ™️.

Really oscar and charles just want babies now.

–🍑

i. oh my god peaches. this is brilliant. this is so long i got carried away sorry 😭

singapore is always an interesting race. the heat and humidity—even with the race held at night—made the street circuit a consistent challenge for the drivers. crashes, tussles, and rain are anticipated parts of the grand prix every year.

what isn't expected is a massive lizard on track.

nobody wants to get close enough to it to do anything. the marshals try to shepherd it towards a crate or something so they can release it somewhere safe. they end up accidentally making it run into the pit lane and causing even more chaos. you're not paying much attention to any of it. the race has been red flagged, which singapore often is, but given that there's no wet weather or incidents that have taken out other drivers (yet), you need to go over your driver's strategy and pick out any weak spots.

then you lock eyes with the lizard as it scurries past the mercedes garage. it freezes. it hasn't tried to hurt anyone. it even seems pretty wary of humans. but your eyes catch and the lizard clearly recognizes your reptilian features. the eyes, the claws, the forked tongue ... and it darts towards you. even though you looked mostly like a human, you were the closest the lizard (your instincts said it was a water monitor, but you didn't have anything to back it up), and there was safety in numbers. even for solitary animals.

you're not totally sure what makes you do it. one moment, you're watching the lizard sit at your feet and the next you're holding it belly-up like it's a baby. you're big and strong enough to hold the creature in one arm. once the lizard realizes that you're clearly at home with the humans, it relaxes and is perfectly content to just watch the scenes of the paddock from your arm.

everyone is keeping their distance from the lizard and, by extension, you. it doesn't bother you. your hybrid species are typically solitary, after all. there are mutterings about whether it was a good idea to allow a hybrid of such a dangerous species to work in formula one. you don't care about them. you're good at your job, your driver likes you, and your team likes you because you make them money.

and then there's charles and oscar.

nobody understands what a bunny hybrid and a cat hybrid—even a black cat hybrid like oscar—see in a komodo dragon hybrid like yourself. they must see something, though, because there's rarely a moment where they're able to be in your presence and aren't. charles trails after oscar happily as the two of them wander over to the mercedes pit wall. both of them hesitate when they see the lizard and how it licks its lips. but the prospect of being able to talk to you is enticing enough for them to ignore their survival instincts.

as they get closer, the lizard is staring intently at charles and his bunny ears. he's a little too excited to see you. charles bounces over to you and the lizard snaps forward, almost getting close to biting charles when you yank it back and hiss harshly.

"my bunny."

immediately, the lizard shrinks back into your arms and you don't think much more of it. but it's all oscar and charles can think about. your bunny. yours. god, they liked the sound of that. by the time the animal control people show up, it's too late to restart the race. your driver gets a decent result from their moves in the (short) race. which means you're already in a good mood when charles and oscar drag you back to one of their hotel rooms.

it's not the first time this has happened. they've come to you a few times before, but they've never been this desperate before.

before you know it, you've got a very needy bunny!charles and very reluctantly horny black cat!oscar on your hands, both of them begging to give you as many babies as you want.

[ramayantika]

Chaand chuppa badal mein...

Krishna and Bhaishmi are back. Enjoyyyyyy

Krishna and I have regularly stayed in touch with each other after the train took me away from him and the serene temple towns of Mathura and Vrindavan. We talk a lot on text and sometimes on call in the late hours of the night. I have to quietly sneak out to the balcony. If I am lucky, I get to go to the terrace without waking my parents up. If I am luckier, our schedules match our free time in the evening, and I get to call him in the quiet hours of the evening.

I chose humanities. Ranvit and Bhumi had to pursue science even though Ranvit likes art more. Bhumi was indecisive about what subjects to learn, but she fares well enough in science and mathematics than her brother and me, so she decided to go for the science stream.

Ranvit has to struggle a lot in physics and math though. He takes out his stress through painting and reading about Indian art. One thing I am happy about him is that he did not let go of his art, nor did my uncle and aunt force him to abandon his hobbies. Their condition: “Pursue science. Get admission into a decent engineering college and then keep doing whatever hobby makes you happy. But science and engineering.”

As for me, class ten mathematics had given me enough nightmares. I did well in science, but I had no interest in pursuing it in more detail for the next two years. Those monkey problems from Ranvit’s physics book and large derivations on Bhumi’s notebook had me in shivers. Maasi supports me choosing humanities though, but would never want her children to pursue anything apart from science.

Ranvit and I are in class twelve now. We have our boards and entrance exams next year. Bhumi is new to class eleven but she is able to handle her subjects well enough, better than Ranvit though.

“Busy looking at the moon…?” Krishna’s honeyed voice draws my attention from the golden full moon beaming right back at me. I breathe deeply and sigh. A sheepish smile forms on my lips, and I place my phone on my left ear. “Uh... sorry, but you are right. How did you figure out?”

I can hear his smile through the breath that escapes his lips on the phone call. He is outside too — perhaps staring at the same moon with me.

“I have a golden moon dangling down the dark sky too, but there is somebody else who is ethereal than the moon whom I would like to see, but my fate doesn’t support that.” He sighs. It is a dramatic one. “Guess, I will have to make do with this golden ball of light.”

My cheeks warm and I smile. It is actually a full-fledged grin with my eyes imagining how he would look saying all that in front of me.

I can easily picture a charming lazy smile and a hand moving through his soft wavy locks while he leans closer to me and tucks my hair behind my ear.

A realization strikes me as my eyes glance at the gleaming moon once again. I am badly whipped for this guy.

“Bhaishmi?” I hear him question.

“Yes. I am here only. Am I audible?”

“Did I get you flustered?”

“Shut up.”

“Yay!”

“You are an idiot.”

“Only for you.”

We don’t say anything for a minute. I can hear him breathing. It is a faint sound, though. I like this comfortable silence. I do not feel restless to hold a conversation forcibly.

Krishna’s voice from the other side enters my ear. “I composed a new tune.” He pauses for a brief second before continuing. “I would like you to hear it.”

My heart picks its pace. It has been a while since I have heard him play flute to me. The last time it happened, we were on the terrace at Yashodhara’s house before we left for our separate ways.

“I would love to.”

“Wow. Cool. I will quickly fetch it. By the way,” I hear a tone of hesitancy in his voice, “are you okay if I play it to you on video call?”

I slap my palm over my lips to contain my excited laughter. Breathing in deeply, I nod and reply, “Yes. I am alone at my society’s terrace.”

“Okay!” He drags ‘okay’ with happiness for ten seconds and disconnects the voice call.

A minute later, my screen lights up with a pretty aesthetic profile photo of Krishna. I slide the green call sign upwards and receive the call.

An excited Krishna waves at me before placing the phone on his table. It is 11.30 PM and he looks as fresh as a lily flower, with a good outfit on top. A cream polo shirt with half sleeves that proudly boasted his toned arms and dark blue trousers.

I fan my face, pretending that I am adjusting my loose hair from my ponytail. After all, he can’t make out that I am fanning invisible hair strands around my face.

He sits on his chair and pushes himself along with the chair slightly backwards to place himself and his flute in the frame, his flute placed near his lips, a place I had been to a year before. The fateful kiss on the evening of Holi seared through my memory, and I blinked hard to bring my focus back on Krishna.

“Ready?” He asks.

I nod quietly while hiding my blush at witnessing the handsome sight in front of me.

He begins by playing a single note that sounds meditative to me. It is a slow but soothing beginning. I can imagine the moon and the cool breeze blowing around me. A few more slow music tunes flow through his flute, and I observe his face.

Krishna always appears so serene while playing the flute. He is at peace. Each of his facial muscles lie in a relaxed state except the slight curl of his lip. It appears like a soft subtle knowing smile, like that of a talented artist well aware of his craft and the hold he has over his cherished audience.

This time he plays a slow melody, as if taking time to express each emotion through every note. The rise and fall in volume and scale expresses a story of its own. It is hypnotizing.

There is yearning, loads of it. The tunes tug at my heart, as if calling my name. Krishna gently sways. It is a graceful motion. Well, Krishna is perfection incarnate. He is a natural performer.

My eyes close on their own. I can see myself dancing in my head to his music. I once dreamt that I was dancing to his music, only for him, for his eyes to see me and my art, just like he played the flute to me those two nights, only for me.

The yearning melody transforms to a slightly fun tune, as if teasing a beloved to proclaim their love, until it begins expressing bashfulness and devotion. God, he was truly a talented artist. He ought to be on bigger stage shows than post some one minute videos on Instagram and play his genius tunes for my ears to listen.

At one point, the music peaks. I feel my eyes moisten and my heart full with nostalgia, yearning and may I add this secretly: Love. A very tender love blooming like a lotus in the early hours of the morning when its warm golden rays caress its petals, coaxing it awake very gently.

It ends and my eyes fly open. I smile — this time not out of shyness, but of genuine admiration. I wonder if he can see my glazed eyes.

“Oh my, are you crying?”

I shrug my shoulders and blink those tears away. “Have I told you that your music is very moving? It easily makes someone too attached to it. It is like a spell.”

This time Krishna smiles shyly and scratches the back of his head. “Glad you liked it.”

Liked? The word loved too would be an understatement. I don’t say that out loud though. I answer with one of my pretty smiles.

Krishna twirls the flute around his fingers when I see him lean closer towards the screen, his eyebrows furrowed as if trying to focus on something. “Are you wearing my peacock chain?”

I pick the pecock pendant around my neck. “Yes, I keep it around my neck most of the time.”

“So, you still wear it every day.”

I nod with a hum and fiddle with the pendant. It used to be a part of Krishna’s beloved flute until he decided that it would better suit as a parting gift for a girl he met on a train than a beautiful adornment for his musical companion.

His eyes go thoughtful instead of the slightly smug playful expression he bears to mess with my heart with his relentless flirty lines. Krishna’s lips curl beautifully upwards. He is smiling to himself and I don’t question him why.

I know the answer to it.

He brings himself near to his phone. I can see more of his pretty face with more clarity. “The gods did hear my prayer after a long time. I got to see my girl prettier than the moon.”

Rolling my eyes, I reply, “Your flattery continues even though it is past midnight.” Secretly, I preen when I hear him say ‘my girl.’

I am a simple girl. I hear a sweet and charming guy call me as his; I melt into a puddle.

“Flattery for you, sweetheart. For me, it is the truth.”

And like that, my friends, I go quiet except the thudding heart inside my chest.

“So, how are you up this late, Bhaishmi,” He asks, tilting his head. “Your mother makes you sleep by this time.”

Shifting my phone towards my other hand, I flex my right hand a little to ease the stiffness in my wrist and answer, “My parents are out of town. They are visiting a relative’s wedding and will be back a day after tomorrow.”

Krishna’s dark eyes widen in surprise. “So, you are home alone for two whole days.”

Mustering up some courage, I add, “And two whole nights.”

He places his cheek on his palm. He looks like a lovesick fool, a very adorable one at that as he asks, “So, no interruption for two whole nights?”

“Nope.”

He hoots loudly before looking alarmingly at the door. Turning back towards me, he says softly, “Head back to your room then Bhaishmi. You are alone and you must not linger around late at night, especially on a dark terrace.”

I get up from my spot and walk towards the door. My hand accidentally hits the steel door. It creaks in an eerie tone, making the both of us jump.

I jog down the stairs with light feet as images of terrifying ghosts chasing me fill my head, and rush inside my warm cozy room.

“Did you lock the door properly?” Krishna asks.

I nod while curling myself in my cozy pink coloured blanket. My eyes close at the comfort surrounding me followed by the urge to fall asleep right away thanks to the mental exhaustion of being up late at nights for studies and projects for my school.

“Should we do a virtual sleepover thingy? You are sleepy.” Krishna points out.

I laugh and lay my head on my fluffy pillow. “I don’t have enough data pack for that.”

Krishna walks to his bed and covers himself with his blanket. His voice goes soft. He should sing me some lullabies, and I would fall asleep like a baby.

“Go to sleep, Bhaishmi. Try visiting me in my dreams.” He says with a teasing grin.

I smile in content instead of blushing hard. His face and his beautiful eyes are the last thing I see before my call screen changes to my lock screen wallpaper.

A ping awakens my tired eyes. My screen lights up.

“Goodnight Bhaishmi❤️. Sweet dreams.” There is a heart emoji beside my name. It is a red heart this time.

I wonder if he accidentally sent the red heart, since we generally stick to pink and blue ones.

Another ping.

“I will try to visit you in your dreams ;)” He adds a winking emoticon and a laughing emoji.

I grin and press my palm to my forehead before sending a text.

‘Goodnight Krishna 🩷🩷’

I don’t mention the part where I tell him that he has been in my dreams quite often.

--xxx---

Taglist: @ma-douce-souffrance (idk if you are using tumblr. you still haven't read the full series for this, but i am tagging in case you find this in the future hehe byeee) @jessbeinme15 @manwalaage @inexhaustible-sources-of-magic (hii sakhii) @krishna-priyatama @krsnaradhika

I kinda forgot the taglist for this fic. Many have different user ids now. Let me know if you all want to be tagged for krishna fics

[horrorvisuals]

Obscure (2004)

Obscure is a survival horror game emphasizing co-op gameplay with its wide range of characters. Taking place inside a massive school building, it lets you control five main characters and is still playable on modern PCs!

Obscure gives you the ability to control any of these five characters and what's better is, that they all have different features, personalities, and abilities.

There is technically a 6th playable character but I won't say more on that to not spoil things.

As I was saying, abilities. They are pretty interesting. For example, Josh lets you know if there is anything left to do in an area. Items to pick up or things to interact with, that kind of stuff. Pretty crucial for thorough exploration. It's important in a survival horror game.

Stan cracks locks easier due to his background, Kenny runs fast and packs a strong punch, Shannon gives tips when you're stuck on puzzles and heals other characters, and Ashley is better at using weapons.

They all have their own benefits!

Obscure plays pretty much like any other survival horror game from back in the day. It features semi-dynamic camera angles, with semi-tank controls. Exploration, item management, combat, navigation, everything is here.

As a somewhat unique feature though, Obscure also lets you combine some items with others and actively use them. For example, you can tape a flashlight to any firearm in the game if you can find adhesive tape.

Aside from firearms, the game also features melee weapons and they're pretty simple to use. There is a good "feeling" to them. They pack quite the punch.

In Obscure, darkness is your enemy. If you played Alan Wake, then you might recognize its flashlight mechanic. When focus your flashlight on dark areas, you banish the darkness around those areas. You also use it in the same way to weaken the monsters before attacking them.

The character change mechanic is pretty slick too. You just press a single button and change the characters. Obviously, you don't just run around with a party of 5 people all the time. You always play in pairs.

There are, however, meeting spots in the game and you are able to change to other characters in these spots. These also act as fast-travel points and help you navigate the environment more efficiently.

Story-wise, Obscure has some intriguing moments and an overall compelling narrative. The game starts with Kenny playing basketball by himself after school. His stuff gets stolen and he follows the thief to a suspicious-looking cellar inside the school grounds.

Later on, things happen, people disappear and you find yourself in a (mostly) abandoned school. It consists of massive corridors, classrooms, underground sections, and yards, it's a survival horror fanatic's dream.

Obscure has a perma-death mechanic. If any of the characters die at any point in the game, they are out for good. Obviously, you can go back to a previous save and get them back but if you are looking for a more hardcore challenge, it's there.

I keep emphasizing its co-op play feature but while Obscure is definitely more entertaining with a friend, it's completely playable solo as well. Whichever pair you choose, the other student is always controlled by AI and they're usually pretty decent.

The best thing about all this is that Obscure is still playable on Steam. It plays well, it's compatible with higher resolutions and you can actually play co-op using Steam's Remote Play feature. It's just like couch co-op.

Its sequel, Obscure 2 is also on Steam and it's also perfectly playable. I'll make another thread for it if you enjoy reading this one.

Seriously, if you haven't played these games before, I can't recommend them enough. They are great games AND they're playable in co-op. How many classic co-op survival horror games do we have these days? Not many, let me tell you that.

Let me know if you give it a shot. I'm curious if you're gonna like it. And if you have already played it, then tell other people why they shouldn't skip this one. Here is the Steam link for the game.

It's actually on sale right now along with its sequel.

[colderdrafts]

2: A small reprieve

Underground visitor, gn reader x monster (male drider). Sfw. Previous Next

It’s an awkward trek back toward the rocky formations. Your host for the night has underway introduced himself as Dren, and you’ve offered you name in turn. The storm is getting worse, as Dren said, wind picking up to harsher levels and rain pouring still.

Dren keeps a respectful distance, mindful not to scare you, though he still hovers behind you as if preparing to catch you should the wind cause you to fly off.

Adrenaline has somewhat worn off by the time you get back, and, now able to feel your body again, you find yourself downright miserable.

Dren quickly ushers you inside the cave, relieved of being out of the storm. The entrance is pitch black, and you note now that this open hole in the rock formation indeed stretches deeper into the ground. Instinctively you reach for your phone to get a flashlight out, but the disappointingly empty pocket of your jacket reminds you it's currently lying in a bush somewhere being useless.

You watch as Dren vanishes in the pitch blackness as he casually walk further in, dark body blending in perfectly. You hear his scuttling footsteps falter when he realizes you’re not following.

“Is something the matter?” his voice reaches you from the dark, and you can’t help but shudder when you can’t locate its origins at all.

“It’s very dark,” you tell him, staring into the gaping abyss. “I don’t know where to put my feet.”

“Oh,” the voice says. “You can’t – hold on. Stay right there, please.”

There a moment of pause where you just feel eyes on you, so you nod at the dark. You hear Dren’s footsteps receding.

The storm rages outside, and you turn around to watch the violently jerking movements of the trees and plants, watching fallen leaves rake across the night sky and the rain still pouring. This could be an opportunity to change your mind and leave this place before you enter the darkness. But what is more dangerous? The elements or the benevolent spider?

You may have to take a chance and stay put to find out.

A few minutes later you hear the clicking noises of Dren’s steps approaching and whip around. To your surprise, an actual light source is hastily coming your way.

Dren is holding an old-time lit oil lantern. It gives a decent light in the dark. He stops in front of you and holds it out to you, looking somewhat relieved you’re still there.

“I rarely get guests, and I can see fine in the dark. I had forgotten that you might not,” he explains, sheepish. “Luckily I kept this thing.”

You gingerly take it, mindful not to brush against his clawed fingers, and now you’re finally able to really get a look at your host.

His entire lower body is a pitch black spiders body, with rough hairs running along his abdomen, eight pointed legs protruding from under his upper body. Said body is a humanoid naked torso with a pudgy but strong build, chest and upper arms partially covered in the same rough looking hairs. Those on his head are long and dark, currently wet and plastered to his face. Hidden behind the stray locks you see now he indeed has four eyes in total, colored like obsidian, two on each side of his face. On top of the mouth are two fanged mandibles.

It’s hard not to gawk.

He tilts his head at you, and you realize you’re staring. “Sorry,” you say, quickly glancing away. “I’ve just never seen anyone like you before.”

Dren gives you an odd look. “..Never?” he seems somewhat perplexed. “But you’re – well. Let’s talk when we get settled in,” he nods at your drenched clothes. “I may have some spare fabrics for you as well.”

Dren leads you through a series of tunnels dug into the earth, wide enough to comfortably house his large form and you walking next to him. The ceilings are covered in webbing, and you thank the stars it’s not on the ground you’re walking on, lest you got stuck in the stuff again.

“Did you dig this out?” you ask, mostly to fill the silence.

Dren nods. “Took a while, but it was worth it. I even managed to dig out an underground water source that was connected to the main cave system,” there's a slight pride in his voice, and it’s not hard to see why.

Looking nearer, you spot multiple intricate carvings running along the walls and floors, skillfully crafted into the dirt. They run along the entire distance you walk, the circling patterns almost hypnotic to look at. It must have taken him weeks if not months to do them.

The route he leads you contains multiple twists and turns, and the tunnels branch off in different directions several times, some even vanishing up and above you, some falling further down below.

You have no idea how Dren navigates them, taking turns left and right seemingly, to you, at random. After just a few minutes walking you realize you’re hopelessly lost in the system, which does not speak well for your confidence being here.

It means you’ll have to trust Dren to lead you safely to the outside again.

You glance up at him. He’s looking ahead with a neutral expression that’s a bit hard to read, though he catches your eye and offers a small fanged smile with a tilt of his head.

You look away again.

Your host leads you into a larger room dug out of the ground. The lantern illuminates it well enough. The first thing you notice is the walls and floors here are, like the tunnels, carved full of intricate designs and patterns. Flora, fauna and symbols unknown to you decorate the surfaces all around you. Looking up, you find the ceiling here is also covered in web.

In a corner, you spot a pile of different items put side by side - clothing, blankets, both neatly folded, some skins and furs, but also cups, pots, and different kitchen utensils. Opposite that is a large table, upon which decorative wooden sculptures are set. There’s a hole dug into the further wall, perhaps acting as a fireplace judging from the shape, though it doesn't seem to have seen much use.

In the other end of the room, you spot two other entrance points, though the lantern is not powerful enough to illuminate what lies further inside.

"This is where I spend most of my waking hours," Dren says, watching you take in the surroundings. "I guess you would call it something like a 'living room'."

You put a palm across the intricate carvings in the walls, surprised at how sturdy the soil is. It almost feels like running your hand over wood. "You did these as well?" you ask him.

"I did," he nods. "Do you like them?"

"They're beautiful."

Dren rubs his arms, sheepish. "Thank you. To be honest, one of the reasons I dug out so much space is to carve the walls," he chuckles. "I get bored down here easily."

"Must be handy that you can just carve out another room whenever you want. Although, the tunnel system has me completely lost," you laugh nervously.

"I'd imagine so," Dren says, and smiles gently. "I designed them that way."

You ignore the small goosebumps on your skin. "You made them confusing on purpose?"

"Confusing perhaps if you're not the one who built the system. What kind of constructor couldn't find his way in his own home?" he replies. "It's mainly because of snatchers. A confusing system means they waste time trying to find their way around. Their wasted time becomes extra time for me to stop them."

"What's a snatcher?" you ask.

Dren laughs, but stops once he realizes it's a serious question. He gives you that same odd look. "You - you truly don't know?"

You shake your head no and shrug.

"You're really not from around here, are you?" he muses. "Well, put simply, they snatch our eggs, hence the name. Roughly your size and shape, as I mentioned. They just happen to have scales, eyes and teeth like a snake. Nasty little things.”

Dren clasps his hands together and, as if in some sort of uncanny imitation, so does the pedipalps of his lower body. “But first things first, we should get you dry."

He walks over to the pile and start picking up some of the folded clothing items, mumbling something about sizes and temperature. He glances at you once in a while, as if using you for reference.

"These should do," he picks out a beige woolen shirt, a pair of brown leather pants and some long undergarments, and hands them to you. "I was going to use these for trading come spring, though you would probably have more use of them now."

You nod your thanks. "Is there somewhere I can go change?" you ask politely, not too keen on being exposed in front of a complete stranger, humanoid spider or not.

Dren looks at you puzzled, but only briefly. "Oh - of course. I'll give you some privacy. Actually, if you would hand me the lantern-?"

You're reluctant to part with your only source of light down here, especially considering you're not entirely trusting Dren yet.

It must have shown on your face, as he quickly adds: "You can have it back, I just want to use the already lit flame to light up more around here. It would be incredibly rude to have my guest stumbling around in the dark, after all. You can get changed while I light up some of the tunnels."

You hand it to him, and he quickly gets to work picking out more lanterns from inside some hollowed out parts of the wall that must act as a storage.

Why would he have a bunch of lanterns lying around if he doesn't need them?

Dren lights them, and you watch as he stretches himself up, and grabs onto the ceiling with his legs. In one fluid motion, he brings himself up.

Suddenly seeing him climbing around upside down causes you to take a wary step back, but he merely uses this new position to more easily attach the lit lanterns to some strings in the web covering the ceiling.

Three of them are now illuminating the room nicely.

Dren crawls over you you, still upside down, and reaches out the lantern he borrowed back to you. "I will not be illuminating everything for now. That would take hours, and far exceed my supply of lanterns," he smiles. "Keep this one in case you turn up somewhere you can't see."

You take it, quietly pondering just how big this cave system must be.

"Please make yourself comfortable. I'll return in a few minutes."

With that, Dren walks across the ceiling down one of the other hallways and out of view.

Once you're sure he's gone, you hastily shrug out of your wet clothes, shuddering a bit against the cool air as it hits your exposed skin. To your surprise, the clothes Dren has selected for you fit you like a glove. They have a pleasant earthy smell, and quickly a cozy warmth spreads through your body. You wonder why Dren would have something like this as well, seeing as he doesn't exactly require pants, nor a shirt judging from his bare torso.

You fold your own wet clothes and place them on the table, unsure what to do with your hands.

A few minutes later Dren returns, and lowers himself back on the floor at the entrance to the living room.

"That should do for now," he sighs and stretches. He looks you over. "They fit you well. Are you comfortable?"

"Much better dry," you reply. "Thanks."

Dren nods, and walks over to the pile and picks out some skins. He hands you a sheepskin.

"I - don't have chairs," he says, apologetic, and motions for you to sit.

You get settled on the ground, and Dren folds his legs in and settles across from you, leaning his torso on his pedipalps and peering at your face. The casual notion of just sitting on the floor is an odd contrast to your current level of wariness.

“I am curious to where you actually are from,” he starts. “Even with their custodian it’s odd to find a sentry roaming around at night, and you have seemingly ventured out on your own. Did something happen?”

“You mentioned that before,” you note, subtly scooting a bit back in a subconscious attempt to avoid his staring. “But I’m not sure I follow. What do you mean custodian? What’s a sentry?”

He blinks. “What’s a – hm.”

He goes eerily quiet for a moment, contemplating. “I must admit I find it somewhat hard to believe you’ve never met a drider before. How come you haven’t?”

Drider, that’s the word. Your brain must have had a field day cooking up this fever dream from somewhere in your subconscious. At least it had the decency to provide the horrifying person in front of you with manners.

His sentence catches up with you. Oh. He thinks you’re lying. That’s probably not good.

How come you’ve never seen one like him before? Well, usually the forests you’re familiar with have other more comprehensive beings that could potentially chase you through the dark.

You cough. “Well, I don’t really know how to explain it. Until I met you, I had no idea anything like you even existed. I promise, I’m as confused as you are.”

He frowns at this, concerned. “Have you been isolated somewhere?” he asks gently. “Are you running away from someone? You can tell me, I won’t make you go back.”

“What? No, no, nothing like that.”

“Then what?” he prods, lower body quietly chittering. “I think it’d be in both of our best interest if you didn’t lie to me.”

You feel a bit scrutinized, suddenly finding yourself under a weirdly gentle interrogation. The slight amount of ease you’ve felt has been efficiently herded away by the calculating expression on Dren’s face.

He’s barely done a thing, and yet you suddenly feel like you’re being measured, like your response will be a deciding factor in how your stay here will go. You wonder if you’d have time to run if he decides to not host you here anymore.

Which brings another clarity.

You can’t exactly get away from here if you had to, can you?

Dren has utilized a calm demeanor to ease your tension, provided shelter and a light in the dark to lure you in. He has managed to twist and turn you through the caving system, and now you find yourself trapped in a maze you could never find your way out of with a being who could end you on a whim.

You have no control of what happens to you right now. Nothing is holding you down, yet you still find yourself caught. It brings a bad taste in your mouth, having been manipulated so easily.

But even so, nothing of this conversation so far has shown any intend to physically harm you.

Your host just wants to be sure who you are.

Right?

To be fair, if you were in Dren’s position you would probably also have a hard time believing some random person just appeared out of thin air and start making assumptions as well. Though, having already been on the receiving end of his wrath, albeit undeserved, you’re not keen on getting there again.

But what more can you do when you’re already telling the truth?

You force yourself to look at his face. He’s watching you gather your thoughts, patient as ever.

“I just – I don’t think this is my world anymore," you start, feeling the puzzle pieces fall into place. "I know how it sounds - I was just walking home. Then the storm happened, the darkness, I couldn’t see anything. I stumbled around until I found the entrance to the cave and well – that’s it. I have no idea how I got here. I promise, this is all foreign to me.”

Dren watches you for a moment, thoughtful. You hold your breath.

“'Not your world'?” he repeats slowly, tasting the words. “Truly?”

“Not anymore,” you affirm.

There’s a heavy silence for a bit where you hold his eye.

Eventually, Dren nods. “Alright then. Blue moons, no wonder you’re so confused.”

You blink at him. Just like that? “You're taking this quite well."

"If that is your truth, then that is your truth," he shrugs.

Okay. You can't tell if that means he either still doesn't believe you but doesn't want to 'pry', or he's taking your words at face value.

Or maybe he just thinks you're insane and thus unaware you're lying. Honestly? You’ll take whatever if it means you’re not about to be lunch.

You let out a breath. "I wouldn't have believed me either. To be honest, I’m not sure I’m not just dead and this is all some sort of Limbo.”

“Hah. Well, not to worry. I’m quite sure you’re still very much alive,” Dren says, glint in his eyes. “But I’m afraid I don’t have much answers to your predicament. I’m not exactly an expert in – well. Out-of-world-things.”

“That we have in common,” you mumble.

You try and think back to what might have happened. The all-encompassing darkness did seem alive somehow. And the storm kicked up rather abruptly. But normally, you would just throw that off as you being exhausted and climate change.

You wonder how you vanishing to wherever-this-is has an effect on wherever-home-is and frown in worry. What will happen to the things you left behind? And how do you get back to them?

If you even get out of this cave again.

"You took a lot of turns down here on purpose, didn't you?" you ask. It's not judgmental, just stating a fact.

Dren smiles again, seemingly pleased you caught on. "I may have tipped things in my favor. You understand I had to make sure you weren't a threat to me. I'm now convinced you're not."

“A threat to you?" you say, incredulous. "Why would you bring me here if you didn’t think I was harmless?”

“No one’s ever harmless,” he chuckles. “Your story is hard to believe, but given your strange reaction upon seeing me, your foreign clothing, your genuine confusion – well, stranger things have happened.

“Usually, if a sentry is out alone, one of two things have happened. Either their custodian is dead, or they’re running away. One leaves them fragile, the other with immense potential danger to me. I had to be sure which you were. Just odd it turns out you are neither.”

"Huh," you say. "I think I have some terminology to catch up on to understand anything of what you just said.”

Dren laughs. “Apologies. I’ll explain what I can. Shortly put, a sentry is a being such as yourself. You only exists few and far between here. It is exceedingly rare to see one. I'll count myself lucky.”

You shake you head. “Sorry to disappoint, but I’m a human,” you tell him. “A sentry is like a position in a job.”

He shrugs. “I assume that’s your word for your kind, but you're very much the same. But I suppose you could look at it as a job. You keep watch, after all. Mostly when the custodian is asleep or otherwise incapacitated.”

“And the custodian..?”

“In return for their watchful eye, the custodian provides shelter, protection,” Dren elaborates. “Since you’re very rare, most tend to become a little overprotective. There’s a lot of competition. It’s not unheard of that one custodian will fight the other for their sentry.”

Your brow furrows. “They fight? For us? Why?”

Dren nods, and counts on his fingers as he speaks. “For one; you're capable of creating and maintaining a bond with custodians that other species simply cannot - You connect differently.

"And two, no less important, you don't hibernate. Most custodians are attacked and killed when they’re at their most vulnerable during this time,” he frowns momentarily, focusing on you. “Having a sentry to keep watch through winter is almost guaranteed survival.”

Huh.

You guess that explains Dren’s previous mistrust of your confusion if he thought you were one of those things and related to a 'custodian'. It seems there’s a very intricate balance between the two. You wonder what one of them might look like.

“But then – why would a sentry run? If they're supposed to work together?” you ask.

Dren’s eyes darken. “Not all custodians do their jobs well.” It hangs heavy that he chooses not to elaborate. “I was worried that was what had happened to you.”

“Oh. Well, no worries. I just fell out of the sky,” you jest. “Not any of the .. other business.”

He chuckles. “While that is also hardly a satisfactory situation, I am glad to hear you haven't gone through an overly aggressive custodian.”

You nod mutely. This is all a lot to take in and you get the feeling there’s way more for you to learn about this place. This dynamic seems odd at best, though what he has told you does spark some hope.

If humans and sentries are indeed the same, it must mean that there are other people like you out there. Maybe there’s a reason you’re a rarity in this world – maybe someone else got here the same way you did? Could someone else have found a way to get back?

But even if so, where would you even start looking?

“You look exhausted,” Dren notes gently, his voice bringing you out of your thoughts. “I can set up a place for you to rest? We can talk more in the morning.”

“That obvious?” you sigh. “That would be nice. Thank you.”

Dren gets to his feet and starts collecting some more furs and skins from the pile. He ventures toward one of the tunnels he vanished behind before. “This way.”

While you’re hesitant to traverse even more of the huge labyrinth that makes up Dren's home, thankfully he doesn’t lead you far from the ‘living room’. The (now lit) tunnel takes an easy right, and opens into a medium sized room with different sized pockets dug out of the earth.

Dren carefully deposits his pile of soft items into one of them – thankfully one close to the ground, you note – neatly putting things in place. He turns to you.

“I hope this is – adequate, for now,” he fidgets, “I don’t have things your kind usually use.”

“At this point I could sleep on a boulder if I had to,” you joke, and peer inside the makeshift nest of furs he’s made for you. It looks cozy enough, for a literal hole in the ground. “I’ll be fine.”

Dren nods, but keeps looking at you for a moment. “If you need water, just exit again and turn left instead. You’ll come across a stream,” he says, listing off things like you would to politely inform a house-guest back home and cover their basic needs. He turns, and heads toward the exit. “I’ll let you rest.”

“Dren?” you call just as he’s about to vanish.

He looks over.

“I know we had a – rocky start,” you snort, “but, I’m grateful for all this. Thanks for letting me crash.”

He frowns in worry. “Crash?”

“Oh – uh. Stay. Thanks for letting me stay.”

His look softens as he smiles. “Sleep well.”

His footsteps recede as he vanishes down the tunnel.

You try and settle in under the unfamiliar covers. The furs have a quite potent musky scent to them that you'll need to get used to, though they prove quite warm and soft. They provide decent padding on the hard ground, but it's still not the most comfortable place you've settled in for some rest.

Is it okay to fall asleep here? You don't know if you can. So much have happened in such a short amount of time, and you're not sure how to exactly process everything. Some part of you is still holding out hope you'll wake up and find yourself awakening from a coma in a hospital bed.

What are you going to do if that's not the case?

You were lucky enough to at least find some shelter for now, though you still don't exactly trust your host for a multitude of reasons. Is going to sleep with him still roaming around to do whatever when you're out cold really a very safe option? For all of Dren's hospitality and his seemingly friendly disposition, you can't forget he's still made sure you can't find your way out if you so did desire. Does that make you a captive?

Maybe it does. You're honestly not sure.

Fact still remains, you're exhausted. What's done is done. You're better of figuring all of this out with a clear head.

You reach over and turn off the lantern. The darkness envelopes you immediately, and the first thing to notice here is just how silent the dark is. Your previous residence has accustomed you to the occasional sound of muffled voices from your neighbors, the passing of a car outside your window, the faint creaking of the walls settling.

Other than an occasional drip from condensed water or the gentle hum of the cavern echo, there's no sound down here at all. Without the lanterns on it's like being in a sensory deprivation chamber. There's just nothing. How Dren hasn't gone completely mad down here seemingly alone in the dark is beyond you, but maybe that's a spider thing.

You clutch the furs covering you a bit tighter and curl up. It's going to be a long night.

[ace-of-gay]

Hey hope your doing well I was wondering if I could maybe request a fluff fic with Stephen and male reader where the reader accidentally gets stuck and locked somewhere like the basement or attic and he tries to get in touch with Stephen cause he doesn’t know what to do and starts to have a bit of a panic attack and when Stephen gets home he tries to look for reader and contacts him and realises he’s stuck he helps him out and sees him having the panic attack and tries to call him down

Stuck

Stephen strange x male reader

Word count: 1,376 words

Warnings: house cleaning, panic attack in decent explanation, dark rooms, being locked in a dark room

Edited to the best of my ability

Reader is male whether it be cis or trans its not specified, no weight, ethnicity or hair type mentioned, reader is at least somewhat abled enough to go around and do house work.

It started by wanting to declutter your space, so many old supplies no longer in use but still worth keeping for a later time when the interest returns, and some clothes that are only pulled out for winter, thicker blankets needing to be put away as well.

Setting the day into motion you got up extra early, having thought about your plan all night you had laid still in bed as long as you could until you no longer could, making coffee for your husband and your personal preference of a wake up drink to spike your energy.

As Stephen walked into the room a smile cast upon your face.

He’s already dressed for the meeting this morning at the tower, he’s insistent on driving instead of using ‘sparkles’ as you tease him, you had spent ten minutes in bed telling about your plans for the day, asking him to help you unlock the storage room door because its heavy and finicky at times.

You hand him his coffee in a reusable to go cup and kiss him goodbye “you have a good day handsome, I’m just a call away” he remarks on his way out.

Putting your headphones on and turning on your upbeat playlist for a but more motivation you got to work, going through the many rooms, folding up clothes you want to put into storage and clothes you want to donate, changing the bedding, taking the thicker duvets and blankets off of the bed and putting them in vacuum bags, taking all of the storage stuff into the room placing it on the selected shelf and going through the others already in the room finding what of the selection you wanted to bring out into the cycle of new to lighten the season.

Picking up your favorites you take them out of the room going to wash the new choice of blankets fit for the season and temperature, a small change to your room to keep it interesting for your mind, always something small or big changing enough for you to not get bored of your spaces.

After the first blanket has gone through the wash on a simple spin and rinse cycle you follow it with a few others for separate rooms.

Taking this time to shoot a text over to Stephen that there were some things you’d like to take to the goodwill in the next city.

Eating a small quick lunch, finishing up on the wash and dry cycles of the blankets and bedding you continue on to your shared room, making the bed just how you both like it, following that with the spare bedroom with some reorganization when the bed is made, tossing a couple new throw blankets onto the couch, but still you had much more need to move and do stuff in you.

Heading back to the storage room you pull out the box lighter clothes from a shelf and take them to your room, unpacking them into your dresser, your phone dings letting you know its battery was in need of being on the charger so you stand up crossing the room and putting your phone on the charger.

Looking around at everything you decide there’s just a little more needed to make everything feel done so you collapse down the box and take it back to the room and look around for that little something that would add a perfect finishing touch.

For the last time today you flick on the light and this time nothing happens, in response you flick it up and down a few more times when you decide to just use the scattered light from the hallway to see the best you can.

The glint of something on the shelf on the far wall on the top shelf you reflexively grab the step ladder completely forgetting that its what was holding the heavy door open so when you open the step ladder while standing at the far corner of the room and you see the cast of limited light that spilt into the room now grow smaller until the heavy door slammed shut with a smack of a click to the lock, you’ve just gotten yourself locked in the room.

You feel out your way to the door, using your hands to look for a lock latch to unlock the door pulling as hard as you could when you couldn’t find a latch.

Taking deep breaths of stuffy air trying calm the fizz of anxiety that lit a suffocating fire deep in the pits of your stomach, like acid reflux its trying to make its way up your throat in shivering and choked panicky gasps.

“Just gotta find the window” you tell yourself.

You’ve never actually taken time to admire the layout of the room, had you ever done so you would have realized it’s the equivalent of a basement, while it doesn't have bare concrete walls it doesn’t have windows, just vents in the ceiling.

Feeling the walls each one as high and as low as you could making your way through the dark capsule of a room, when you make it all the way around the room and find yourself at the door once more but this time with the realization that this room is a cell of stuff that holds temporary time outside of it, hoping to yourself that your husband would soon come home and find you missing and find you.

You not at all sure how long you’ve been in here for but its long enough for your voice to be crackly and broken up by desperate panicked sobs, whether its deemed masculine or not you don’t care whatsoever, anxiety doesn’t follow gender norms especially when it decides to eat your rationality and instead leaves you feeling like your spiraling and going crazy, your phone in an entirely different room you have no idea how long it’ll be until you get out, its given your mind plenty of silent time to hear your thoughts chime in that, that ‘silly’ fear of the dark never went away, it just became more rational, if you could hear your thoughts outside of your head they would be the smallest whisper so far away but the echo off of the cold concrete floor while your tears fell from tour cheeks to the ground and sniffled sobs sang around the silent room, it was you and only you, drowning in every sound of yourself in desperation.

Your not shivering cold but instead trembling terrified, that is until you heard a sound of the door being played with and the light from the hallway finally leak inside, “dear? Are you in here?” He sees the light blanket you, in a flash you’re up and hugging him tight, he leads you out of the room, the light overwhelming your eyes he leads you to the kitchen where you sit in a chair eyes shut lightly to adjust to the light, silent scratchy cries fall from you, from how overwhelmed it had you the fire that started in your stomach earlier grew and made it’s way through your entire burning, your sanity feels like it’s the shambled ashes of a burnt down house.

He sits with you easing you to drink some water for both your throat and dehydration due to crying, you finally get to a place where the occasional hiccup interrupts your explanation of what happened.

He held you the entire time you explain everything, rubbing your back, occasionally reminding you that you’re okay now with a complementary kiss to your temple soothing you back the rest of the way from the roaring fire of sickening anxiety, the fire is merely a dying spark in a dark room , you’re okay now.

“I tried calling you to see if you wanted me to bring anything back and you never ignore my messages so I got worried and im glad I had done so because im here for you now my love, im so sorry I wasn’t here when it happened”

Talking it over you both decide to order in dinner tonight and stay in and cuddle, in each others arms, watching comforting movies and falling asleep in one another’s arms

My mom bought me a book to read and i told myself i couldn't read anymore than the first three chapters until i finish this fic

[thewertsearch]

Asks Comp 15/5

@manorinthewoods submitted: I believe I got confused about the omnipotence thing because I'd talked about it in some Discord server or other. My interpretation of the confusing usage of 'omnipotent' is that it specifically refers to any individual with the ability to exert unlimited power upon at least one individual. This allows for a system where one omnipotent can be more powerful than another, such as a Horrorterror being stronger than a First Guardian. [...] That's all I wanted to say.

The problem is that I don't really understand what it means to exert 'unlimited power' over someone.

Does it mean that you have full control over that person's actions? Or perhaps, the ability to change their nature in any way imaginable? Neither of these traits apply to First Guardians - their powers are centered around controlling space, not people.

Doc Scratch exerts power over Vriska, but his influence isn't absolute. If it was, she wouldn't have been able to use the cueball behind his back. Maybe I'm just misunderstanding what you mean by unlimited power.

Probably! There are already a lot of human/troll interactions going on, so their relationships will inevitably evolve.

I recommended a few webcomics last year. They're all decent theory-fodder, particularly Paranatural.

That said, none of them are as good as Homestuck at doing what Homestuck does. This is a very unique story, and I'm also not sure what, if anything, I'll liveblog after this is done. I'm certainly enjoying liveblogging, so there probably will be a next project - and I remain open to suggestions.

Dang it. Well, I'm still showing up in search, so at least I'm not shadowbanned this time. Maybe a glitch on your end?

I don't think you're wrong, exactly - but to be honest, there seems to be a bigger issue here than unreliable narration. I still have trouble understanding how any kismesissitude can be healthy.

The prophecy is true!

It's kind of cool that the kids' entire fortune is likely seeded from John's original stockpile. All that Grist we picked up in Act 2 actually went somewhere!

Oh, nice! I feel like there'd be too many combinations to effectively crowdsource, though, unless the pool of alchemy ingredients was extremely small. If you really wanted to implement alchemy in a game, it'd probably have to be at least partially procedural.

To be fair, I have to give credit to John on this one. Some of his funniest moments are when he's not trying to be a jokester.

I know! I probably wasn't clear enough about my question.

My question is whether the phrase 'the numerals of the blind prophets' is a reference all on its own. The phrase is a little out of left field, and the comic itself hasn't explained it.

Pretty sure John's has already been explained - he needs to wake his Denizen and save his fireflies!

As for Jade's, it's indeed hard to say. I thought they'd all be about terraforming, but Dave's seems to break this pattern. Maybe his Quest isn't what it seems - or maybe I was just wrong, and a Quest can be just about anything.

I don't think I'll be able to guess Jade's, since it'll involve the features of a Land we haven't yet seen. All I can say for sure is that it'll have something to do with Space.

Hell yes! This blog's hidden objective - to plug The Locked Tomb - is finally bearing fruit.

It's easy for Aradia to do what she does, because she ''knows'' that she could never have done anything else. 'Understanding' this lets her be reckless.

Once you can convince someone their choices don't matter, you can convince them to do whatever you want.

I prefer Prospit's aesthetics, but Derse's vibes. The Horrorterrors are a better suspicious patron than Skaia - at least they'll help me break the game.

That said, the official quiz assigned me Prospit. Maybe I misunderstand the moons - but from where I'm currently sitting, Derse is the better choice.

The question isn't whether Sburb would screw them over - it's how it would.

I like the idea that Sburb started with only Sprites, and slowly assimilated its victors into its later iterations.

Each Sburb species represents a video game trope, so I could see an aggressive species like the trolls as a border patrol. They're angry, aggressive NPCs who fly their warships around the Veil, making sure Players don't leave the session's boundaries. You're meant to avoid them, not fight them, and they're the bane of any Player who tries to get creative with the Furthest Ring.

Now, what kind of NPC would the humans be?

I'm not a fan of jumpscare horror, but psychological horror can be very interesting indeed.

I didn't expect the comedy meme man to be that good at instilling a sense of dread - but I shouldn't have been surprised. Horror and comedy tread a very fine line.

Thank you!!

This frame in particular is pretty unsettling. Jack never usually shows this much emotion, and you have to wonder if the Ring has gone to his head a little.

Anyway, if we're talking about aesthetics, my favorite area so far is the Battlefield. It's like a chessboard mixed with a Windows XP background, and it's gorgeous in Rise Up.

Neither have been used in the comic, so I'm just going with lusi for convenience's sake!

[cloudcountry]

fuck i literally realized a lot of this is due to how much I relate to him IM SORRRYRYRYRYRY but i just wanna talk about him today (i have no fun insights this is just yapping... URGGBSHGRFYGH I RELATE TO AND LOVE HIM SO MUCH SOBS ON UR DOOR STEP)

im sorry, i believe a little warning for the first paragraph i bring up my own dead sibling cause I wanted to get that out of the way

This is decently specific to me: I have a younger dead sibling and idia is just i can relate just so hard to bc of that one fact, (gets out the idia journal) we were around the same age when our siblings died we think we both got them killed through harmless fun comments and just having someone so close to you as your younger sibling die at a young age kinda fucks with you and stuff idrk whats going on but something is

we both have social anxiety i don't think mine is as bad but if i had the option to just talk through a tablet i would, especially in certain situations where i'll freeze up (aka talking to any waiter ever) I genuinely a lot better when im there for someone else that has so we could have a symbiotic relationship for social situations

+ I NEED TO REASSURE HIM HIS DAMN IMAGINARY AUDIENCE ISN'T ACTUALLY REAL NOT EVERYONE HATES YOU YOU DON'T HAVE TO ACT LIKE IT IM RIGHT HERE I LOVE YOU SM :((

Okay funny silly time: love of cats omg cats i love cats he loves cat give him cat he would be unsure how to treat it exactly bc he never had a childhood cat but he has done so much research on cats that he probably could info dump on the cat on why it so cool and the best thing ever "Awww did you know you get a lot of your water from your food bcuz you're a dessert animal and you avoid still standing water due to your prey possibly contaminating the water" please let him see those stray cat cams in china he would love donating food to them,, he would be spear heading naming everyone and making sure they all get a wiki page

OKAY ENOUGH ABOUT IDIA AND CATS BUT HE WOULD SEE IF HE COULD GET THE FUNDS TO OPEN A CAT SHELTER AND FEED SO MANY STRAY KITTIES MOVING ON

baby noooooo,,,, :(( yes im looking back on his after overblot dialogue as a reference even though i just read it anyways,,, Idia will never be able to have his own life separate from his family, since yk cursed and shroud, it's basically a path that was bricked in for him. its like his life path is a long corridor that leads to the same road no matter what he picks. Especially since his unique magic locks him into working for STYX since he can just open a very vital thing and idk almost take over the world. if the shrouds acc got unique magic i think idia could have actually went on to lead a decently good life whether he was STYX head by choice or something else (game dev)

hes so passionate about the things he enjoys, there is so many examples of this, he's into so many things and loves them all with his whole heart it's so endearing (also uhsn dfbghrg bonding over media is the best, hes probably so fun to talk to about media... but he might lord knowing so much over you >:p ily just let me put my two cents in you can keep info dumping idia) OUGH (ignore me doing the hand thing PLEASE I LOVE IDIA I LOVE ORTHO IM ENJOYING WRITING THIS SM) OKAY ANYWAYS aww okay reading over idia's dialogue like im writing you an argumentative essay or something,, STAR ROGUE! the idia of idia (wtf r u writing edie) HIS SILLY ASS SLANG HRGBHRBGVLRHG "OUR LEGEND, POP OOOFF!" Anyways idia just recounting everything about star rogue without second thought he loves it sm he probably played it sm he knows the opening by heart (IDIA AND ORTHO SAYING THE TAG LINE TOGETHER THIS IS KILLING ME AUBURN)

hes heard so often that he was genius when he was really young it was just hardwired for him to think he was the best in the room especially with the advancements he has made from the ages of 10-12. like building ortho is genuinely a feat and he did it and two years definitely he's going to let that go to his head. ngl i feel that his parents were not too great probably absent most of the time since he can just lock himself in his room and work on something that no one knows about for two years. probably fucked him up developmentally too, he was NOT properly socialized the internet was his parents for the entire time probably

he wants to be FUCK THIS SHIT ACC OMG CRIES IN A CORNER SADDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD HE JUST WANTED TO BE A COOL ADVENTURER HERO GUY HE DIDN'T KNOW THAT WOULD HAPPEN!!!!! WHAT WENT WRONG IS NOTHING YOU WERE JUST A TOO SMART KID,,, IT'S NOT YOUR FAULT AND NEVER WILL BE YOU DIDN'T KNOW THAT WOULD HAPPEN OMG. DFGVJKDHJHBCBSHFBSFBSFR

it's like 12:30 right now my mental state is deteriorating this is stupid opinions for the most part i tried my best im sorry if this is bad but YOU SAID GUSH IN YOUR INBOX SO I MADE THAT HAPPEN???

-- with lots of love Edie

EDIEEE MY FAVORITE IDIA KISSER‼ THANK U FOR SHARING YOUR THOUGHTS READING THEM WAS SO INTERESTING!!

first of all holy shit im so sorry about what happened to your sibling. i totally get why you'd find him comforting because of that but Oh my gosh. im so sorry.

i think having social anxiety is something a lot of people can relate to with him, even myself. identity actually brought this up but seeing him being pushed into situations where he is ABSOLUTELY not comfortable makes me want to run in there and help him GET OUT. like i may not like this man that much but nobody should feel pressured or panic over entering a social situation they dont want to be a part of.

AH YES THE CAT CARD

RIGHT YEAH its so SAD how he will never get to live his own life and THATS one of the things that ive thought about a lot concerning him. like it would suck to actually have your fate predetermined no matter what. like he's just going to be stuck there with nobody else except for like ortho and his employees(?) but actually. yk what thats how he spent his school days which is even sadder hello

"the idia of idia" HELLO WHAT DOES THIS MEAN

actually! you bring up a good point about idia always being considered a genius since he was young and how that affects his self esteem and how he interacts with people now. i have literally never thought of it that way but it makes a lot of sense.

THANK YOU FOR SHARING YOUR THOUGHTS EDIE <3 I LOVED HEARING THEM!!

[victimeyez]

Yes, Captain

Happy Halloween! I was able to finish a short story I started ages ago, just in time to post it as a Halloween special. This is not related to Professional//Victim, but instead centers on the plight of an Irish pirate crew.

Tadhg is an irish name pronounced like TIE-G. Pronunciation reference available here: x

This one is hopefully sufficiently creepy, gross, and gory. Mind the tags. Alternative title: Blood and Oranges

~

“Captain!”

Tadhg’s head whipped around as if his own name was called, and gave a cursory glance to the deck before making his way over to the private. Captain was nowhere in sight, likely getting stoned in his quarters, so Tadhg took the reins as his practiced right-hand man. 

The private who had called was in the crow’s nest, so Tadhg climbed the netting up, the ropes still rough under his calloused hands. He pulled himself up with decent ease but actively suppressed his need for more breath, trying to appear effortless in front of his underling.

“Aye?”

Snake Eyes handed him the telescope without comment. Tadhg raised it to his eye and squinted, blinking a few times against it before he saw the ship. Not immediately close, but drawing closer at an unnatural pace. Less subtly, the ship made its identity known with its trademark crimson sails.

Tadhg swallowed uncomfortably and lowered the spyglass.

“It could be an imposter,” Snake Eyes tried, with a nervous air.

“We cann’y afford to be wrong.”

Tadhg’s stomach was clenched in a pit of worry, but he carefully kept a calm face. 

“Get the crew ready for battle, I’ll meet with the captain.”

Snake Eyes nodded, worried, and scurried down the nets after Tadhg. 

At the bottom, Tadhg straightened his vest and clapped his hands.

“ATTENTION! A ship resemblin’ The Red Dawn has been spotted, 20 kilometers north, headed our way. Ready in case of a fight, be on standby for orders, Snake Eyes will direct.”

The crew paused for the announcement, and made nervous, uncertain eyes at one another while they slowly shifted gears. There was an air of disbelief stalling their movements, but Snake Eyes could snap them into shape.

Tadhg hurried down the narrow steps to the captain’s quarters, and he could hear word spreading down through the layers of the ship to the gun deck. 

“Captain!”

He knocks on the door vigorously, hoping to wake him from his inevitable stupor.

“Who iiiiiisssss ittttt?” Rowan called back, muffled through the door. Tadhg pulled a pin from his hat and picked the lock with practiced ease, letting himself in. Wild Red Rowan was lying in his bed, the only bed on board, smoking opium with a humorous scowl.

“I thought I told you not to do that.”

“Captain, we’ve spotted The Red Dawn headed our way.”

Rowan’s face drained and his cheer was gone in a flash. He set down his pipe, looked at it, and then started packing it full again. 

“Hoist the white flag.”

Tadhg didn’t move.

“What?”

“Surrender. Immediately. It’s our only chance.” Rowan didn’t meet his gaze, instead focusing on smoking as much of the opium as he could in short order. 

“We - we might. Still outrun them.” Tadhg’s words sounded hollow, even to him. 

“We won’t.”

“We have to fight.”

“We can’t win.”

“We don’t know that.”

“We can’t afford to lose. We have to give up, it’s the only way any of us will be spared.”

Tadhg walked back up the stairs in a daze. He reached the gun deck first, where the crew was scrambling to ready artillery. 

“Don’t - don’t. We’re surrendering.”

He didn’t say it loud enough first, when only a few people slowed and looked at him. 

“HALT! PREPARE FOR A SURRENDER! CAPTAIN’S ORDERS!”  he barked. Stunned faces of disbelief looked back at him. Some folks didn’t even stop preparations. A woman with long black hair dropped an armful of knives unceremoniously onto the floor.

“Are you having a fucking craic?” 

Tadhg stifled a nervous laugh.

“‘Fraid no’.”

Blackjack stared at him for a long moment, finally deciding he wasn’t joking.

“Fuck. Fuck!”

She kicked the heap on the floor she had dropped, scattering knives and cutlasses of various sizes around the deck. 

Tadhg walked numbly back to the main deck, where he repeated his order to a similarly mixed success. His boots weighed a thousand pounds with each step he took to the mast, kicking the trunk at its base open and pulling the heavy cream canvas from its depths. In case of emergencies. 

The crew of The Great Deceptor had never raised the white flag before.

Tadhg had been sure he’d be dead before he’d see it happen. He stared at the fabric in his hands for a moment as if it might speak to him. He hoped he might have some moment of clarity, of feeling assured of what to do. None came.

Looking past it, down to the ocean, The Red Dawn was growing closer at an overwhelming rate. It was a calm day, yet the foreign vessel cut the waves like a watersnake. Without the breeze, The Great Deceptor’s white flag hung limply from its post, as if the flag itself had given up its duty, too. Tadhg wondered idly if they’d even see it. 

A heavy hand fell on Tadhg’s shoulder as Captain Red Rowan materialized behind him, fully dressed. He seemed to consider saying something encouraging, before abandoning the idea to a morbid silence. The crew around him drifted about like ghosts, eying the raised flag as a terrible omen. 

The free ocean miles around them, and yet, nowhere to go.

~

When The Red Dawn grew close, Tadhg could see the water ripple oddly around her flanks, and she pitched forward quicker than the wind could carry her. When they were close enough to see people on board, he realized the movement was propelled by a row of blue painted oars feathering out from low on each side. From any distance, they blended in easily with the tumultuous waters. The oars retreated into the boat smoothly as it drew up side-to-side with them, leaving no trace. Able to be hidden when docking, so no one would know their secret.

No one who would survive. 

They boarded with a ferocity, even though The Great Deceptor’s crew stood by with anxious idleness. The deck swarmed with foreign members, quickly taking flank along the ship to guard the length. Their captain came last, and Tadhg’s heart sank. Phantom White stepped onto the deck in a long leather coat, bleached white like bone. His face obscured by his signature leather mask, tucked neatly into his hat. His eyes were dark gems in their shadows, and when they reached Tadhg, it felt like they were boring holes through him. 

“I offer no struggle, only a bargain.” Rowan called. 

That got White’s attention then, and he made his slow way over to Wild. He came to a stop within conversational distance, his masked face unreadable, still silent. 

“I offer my ship and my crew in exchange for my life.”

Tadhg’s heart stopped, and he broke his best menacing face to stare at Wild Red in disbelief.

“Not a member of your crew will be harmed, and our bounty is yours. I can-”

Rowan was interrupted with a hard punch to the jaw, and Tadhg was stunned to realize it was delivered from his own fist. 

“You fish bellied fucking coward!”

His hand instinctively went to his side, drawing his cutlass and thrusting it into the air.

“ERIN GO BRAGH, FIGHT YOU DOGS!”

Chaos broke around them as the crew scrambled for arms, some forgoing them in favor of ripping at the invaders with their bare hands.

Tadhg had a fleeting moment of hope, a single thought that just maybe they had a chance, before Phantom White’s blade cut his hand into two halves with a single blow. Tadhg’s favorite sword clattered to the deck, and a leather-clad arm grabbed him about the throat, pulling his head into a crushing embrace. He frantically clawed at the arm, but his cut hand’s fingers flopped backwards unnaturally. With some wriggling he managed to tuck his chin under his grip and he bit down, his teeth sinking into the thick supple leather and catching him easily. There was a blinding hit to the back of his head, and night fell suddenly for Tadhg.

~

He woke up to darkness again, a blindfold wrapped thickly around his eyes. As he collected his thoughts, he recognized he was upright, sitting bound to a chair, probably from the captain’s quarters. His head throbbed in waves of pain, and the agony from his hand was so intense that he clenched his fist on instinct, as if to pull away from the sensation. 

His hand was bound tightly together, pinned behind his back with his other fist. His jaw ached from a knotted rag stuffed into his mouth, keeping his jaw forced open and held in with a tightly bound rag around his head. He moaned in discomfort, shaking his head to try to dislodge the makeshift device and his whole head pulsed in pain. He prodded at the gag with his tongue, but it was caught behind his teeth and he struggled to bite down. 

The bony back of a hand smashed the left side of his face, startling him into plaint submission as he searched sightlessly for his captor.

“Quite the excitement you had today, dear boy.” A rough voice spoke, low and timely.

“Mhhhhhnnnnhhhhwwhhhnnn,” Tadhg articulated back. 

A low chuckle. 

“You tried your best, but your crew was easily overwhelmed.”

Tadhg’s heart sank into his stomach. He didn't even get to go out fighting with his crew.

“They didn’t go without a fight, though. Gave me a few positions to refill, and I find myself suddenly in need of a new right hand man.”

Tadhg told him precisely how much he could go fuck himself, but all that came out was muffled sounds of anger. 

The striking hand patted his cheek.

“You do fight like a dog. I could use a mutt. Or, I could chum what’s left of your crew. I’ll give you some time to think about it. 

Tadhg swallowed with some difficulty around the rag, but sat still.

“I have to finish a few negotiations with your good ol’ cap, and we can seal it.”

Tadhg wasn’t sure what would be required to “seal it”, but he didn’t have much choice. He listened to the creak of the wood as this - new captain stalked away.

New. Because with a sinking feeling, he already knew. He would take the deal. Of course he would. He only hoped there actually were surviving members of his crew left to be saved. 

He rolled the memory over in his mind like the last sip of whiskey in his mouth. His Captain, stoned and stumbling, unwilling to lift a finger towards their survival. A little more “all for one” than “one for all”. Back in the day Wild Red Rowan slaughtered vikings and freed their slaves. Freed then, with nowhere to go, Tadhg had joined his crew with an unwavering loyalty. 

A loyalty that had brought him up through the ranks fast. 

A loyalty that may very well have just cost the entire ship their lives. 

He hung his aching head. 

Less rhino horn could ruin better men than his temperamental leader. But Tadhg was devoted, and it regularly earned him a place in the Captain’s bed just long enough to be used for what he was good for. He felt heavy with shame to think on those nights now, and where it had landed him. 

He dozed off in the chair somehow, this knowledge only gleaned when he was startled awake with a hand squeezing his sore jaw. 

“Enough beauty rest. Your captain has agreed to a most generous offer.”

Tadhg raised his blind, heavy head, and the hand released him. 

“As for you… you’ll serve on my ship. Ten year’s debt. Many of your kin here have accepted. What say you?”

Tadhg gnawed on the gag and finally nodded. His heart sank with his submission, knowing the little freedom he’d been given had been sold away again so easily. 

Tugging at the back of his head, strands of hair rip free with the rope binding. The wrap around his eyes loosens and falls, and he blinks harshly against the oil lamps illuminating the room. As they adjusted, he struggled to understand what he saw.

Phantom White, sitting on the edge of Red’s bed. His white coat splattered with blood and gore, some still shining wet in the light. In place of his white mask was a crude red mass, the edges secured with sinew around his head. Out of the gruesome mess, Tadhg recognized a human face. The scar on his nose… no. No.

His captain’s face, the flayed skin stretched into a gruesome mask. 

Bile rose in his throat, only kept down by the gag. The lips were swollen and split, stretched brutally around the new captain’s own mouth, the hollow eye sockets grimly forced open around dark eyes underneath. What he could see of the face beneath was painted in blood that had begun to tacky in the cool salt air. 

He screamed in his gag then, like a rabbit in the jaws of a wolf. Screamed with a terror that dripped down his leg. The twisted mask of Rowan’s face bulged around the ties securing it around Phantom White’s head. The bloody fileting knife still was held in one hand, viscera caked down to the end of the handle and smeared in his palms. Tadhg rocked backwards in his chair as hard as he could, barely gaining another inch away from the monster before him. 

“You don’t think I wear it as fine as him? He might still like it back, though he has grown quiet since.”

Phantom drew an orange from his pocket and raised his blade, splitting the fruit in two with a practiced flick. He opened his mouth - both mouths - wide enough to sink his teeth into the flesh, the smell of sugar cutting through the stench of blood as the juice dripped down both chins. 

Tadhg sobbed and wretched dryly, thankful of his empty stomach.

“You’ll do what the fuck I say, when I say it.”

Tadhg nodded again, heart hammering. He could not cease the tears of sheer terror tracking down his cheeks and soaking into his gag.

White drew closer, drawing whimpers and sobs from Tadhg as the bound man struggled in vain to pull away from the advancing captain. 

His peeling face loomed close to his and Tadhg closed his eyes, anticipating teeth to tear his own in shreds. \

The knife dug into his cheek and he shrieked as it carved down, the acid of the orange stinging like salt in the wound. It split through the wrap around his mouth and withdrew, the sides falling away from his face and releasing his gag. 

He opened his eyes wide and saw him staring back, deep set eyes under his fleshy disguise. Phantom’s bloody hand covered his mouth before he could spit out the knot over his tongue.

“We have a deal. The only thing I want to hear out of your fucking mouth is “Yes, Captain.” Are we clear?”

Tadhg nodded, trembling. Paralyzed under his grip. 

The hand released and he spat out the last of the gag, struggling down a swallow to clear his throat.

“You’re mine now.”

Phantom’s face loomed closer and pressed the limp, bloody lips of a corpse’s face against his. An invading tongue pressed against his lips, coaxing his own mouth open to accept the kiss. 

Numbed by shock, Tadhg accepted, and a warm tongue pushed into his mouth, tasting of blood and oranges. The kiss deepened, and then pulled back, a string of red spit breaking between their mouths as they parted. 

“Yes, Captain.”

[until-the-brahmin-come-home]

glance, armour, arms, and change for Nate, Nora, and Ennio

(the ask game in question)

glance: At first glance, what stands out most about your OC's appearance? What's their distinguishing feature?

When out and about, Nate tends to wear a dark green cloak that hides most of his features. Without it, the first things a person would notice would likely be his reddish hair, bright green eyes, and prosthetic right arm.

In the wasteland, Nora stands out for how well put-together she generally looks. She values appearing professional, even though she's long past her lawyer days. She also has vitiligo.

Ennio has a lot of scars. On his face, his hands, his arms. He can't currently remember where he got most of them - except for the two on his forehead.

armor: What kind of armor does your OC wear? Is it well kept? Bonus: where does it come from? Is there a story behind it?

Both Nate and Nora prefer lighter types of armor to allow for fast, quiet movement. Nate's not as good with repairing clothing as he is weapons or machines, but he knows enough to keep it in decent shape. Nora likes having a little marker somewhere on her armor that indicates her allegiances (to the Railroad, the Minutemen, and her family).

Ennio rarely wears armor because frankly, he doesn't need it (Endurance 9). He'll put on a uniform for the sake of blending in, but otherwise has no interest in them. Except for his patched courier jacket - if you mess with it, he'll kill you.

arms: Does your OC have any weapons? What weapons do they carry, and how do they wear them when they're not fighting?

Nate carries a Thompson/Center Contender named Sunstriker which he'll try to one-shot enemies with before switching to whatever backup weapon he's carrying. When not in use, it goes in a hip holster. Both the gun and holster are engraved with solar imagery.

Nora's gun is a heavily modified and decorated Browning hunting rifle named Orion, with its namesake constellation painted on its stock. For years Nora kept notes on what her dream gun would be, without the expectation of ever being able to get it. When she passed the bar, Nate gifted her the gun as a surprise. It survived the war by having been stored in a locked gun safe underneath their bed. She carries it around by hand or with a shoulder strap.

Ennio carries a Ranger Sequoia with a defaced bear engraving, La Longue Carabine, Maria, and a protonic inversal axe (although he doesn't always carry all of them all at once). He has a habit of picking up weapons as 'trophies' from the people he kills, and has a whole mess of holsters to carry them all. Although he doesn't use it much past Goodsprings, he's also oddly fond of his weathered 10mm pistol.

change: Has your OC ever drastically changed their appearance? Significant haircuts, big tattoos, complete wardrobe swap, etc? Why? How do they feel about the change?

Nate and Nora's biggest change has been going from a full pre-war wardrobe to cobbling together anything that'll fit. Neither of them are particularly thrilled with the situation.

Even if he's forgotten most of it now, Ennio has always been a walker-of-the-wasteland, and his appearance reflected that. The biggest change he underwent was when he acquired several tattoos as a teenager. He viewed it as something that needed to be done. The tattoos have very specific meanings - but only very specific people would understand them, and Ennio is not one of those people anymore.

[caranelguild]

Our adventurers push forward, Quagoon in the lead listening at every corner and prodding the floor ahead with his newly acquired scorpion-on-a-ten-foot-pole. It is this arachnid that alerts the wood elf to a fine tripwire stretched across the corridor when it begins snapping its claws at the air. The party comes to a halt.

Krieg is the first to step over the wire - and his step immediately compresses a flagstone beyond it, triggering a guillotine blade to fall from the ceiling. It screeches through his new shoulder plate armour and becomes stuck there.

After extricating the dragonborn from the trap, the group moves onward.

They come to a locked stone door, and Quagoon is able to unlock it. He opens it - and a glowing glyph upon the revealed room's far wall immediately hypnotizes half the party just before a half dragon blasts them all with fire breath.

The hypnotic power of the glyph does not control our adventurers long, but long enough to send lackeys Pip and Muirnyr to the ground, charred and battered by the half dragon's follow-up attacks.

The half dragon has a lackey of their own that joins the battle, but it's not long before Krieg's axe bisects the half dragon from shoulder to hip, and the gruesome sight is enough to break the thug's resolve.

He is bound to the room's only chair as our adventurers begin looting the room. Quagoon covers the hypnotic glyph with a tapestry, revealing a hidden alcove containing a locked iron chest. Damaia collects a set of gold-leafed playing cards from the table, along with a leather bag of gemstones.

Vola and Krieg interrogate the thug, but his mind has been addled by strong drugs: he knows only his instruction, to wait in this room and attack adventurers. Vola chops his head off.

Unable to pick the chest's strong lock, Damaia is called over to unlock it with magic - but all are disappointed to find only a pile of coins within.

After this, the gang moves on, stepping over the charred body of their kobold guide, who must have fallen to the half dragon's first blast of fire.

The hallway stretching before them is more than a hundred feet long, and Quagoon brings the group to a halt when he notices carvings in the corridor wall - a rarity in this dungeon. The carvings are of vertical lines, five of them, each excepting the middle line with an elemental symbol above it.

Through trial and error, the gang solves the riddle, and move down the corridor without being blasted by any of the four elements.

The next door they open reveals a comfortable sitting room - cool and dry, as opposed to the oppressive humid heat of the rest of the dungeon. This comfortable coolness seems to be emanating from a blue fire burning in a hearth.

Comfortable for the first time in hours and bleeding and burned, our adventurers close the door and rest here.

Feeling decent and intrigued by a large tome beneath a field of force magic (dispelled by a comrade), Krieg spends the next few hours reading. The book is one of legends, each relating the defeat of a great dragon. He takes notes and studies the stories looking for anything relevant to his present circumstance.

A few stick out to him - nine stories of great red dragons coming to their ends, and a few from that collection in particular.

After the others have bound their diverse wounds and caught some rest, the room is explored and Muirnyr the dwarf lackey becomes interested in Krieg's book. When he leaves it on a side table to investigate the fire with Vola, Muirnyr swoops in to read it, focusing on the legend of Bothik Mountainhorn the dwarven archer, who used "Cold Iron" arrows blessed by the frost gods to defeat her dragon, and the tale of two human duellists known as the Twins who found the infinitesimal weak spot between scales on their dragon's breast to drive their rapiers home.

Meanwhile, Vola has dragged the grate out of the hearth, which reveals that the log whence rose the blue flames is not a log at all but an empty quiver!

Unfortunately, Damaia is already using her only fancy pearl to cast an identification spell on the iron arrow found beneath the foot of the dragon statue, learning that it indeed contains the cold infusion of a frost god.

Krieg snatches the book back from Muirnyr and scours one final tale, that of a group of miners who collapsed their tin mine upon a dragon they unearthed when they delved too deep.

Rested and armed with new information (and a terribly cold quiver wrapped up in Vola's spare garments), the party presses on. They avoid a mysterious trap in one corridor before coming upon a quartet of firenewts.

These are dispatched quickly, helped by an ambush set in a zone of silence spell.

[officialaemondtargaryen]

Prompt: "We both kinda escaped the same party and there's only one place to effectively hide from everyone else, I'm sorry but could I please hide in this stupidly claustrophobic spot for just one minute, my heels are killing me?" AU

Characters: Eddie Munson x Reader

Word Count: 3,600

Trigger warning: Partying, alcohol use, drug use.

Author's Note: Happy New Years! Are all of my fics holiday themed now? See ya on Valentine's Day, I guess. Also, I was torn between writing this for Eddie or writing this for Argyle, but I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to nail the dialogue with Argyle- I need to study his character more (aka watch vol. 4 again). I really hope that you enjoy this 100% self-indulgent, steaming pile of crap.

It was Robin's fault, truly.

Steve had originally asked her to go with him to Tina's party, but she wasn't able to get out of work. You already had plans with your mother, a few VHS tapes, and a giant bowl of popcorn, but Steve promised that he would make it up to you in some way, and having something to hold over him was enough to make you reconsider.

Still, you already felt out of place as you sat in Steve's passenger seat picking at the hem of your skirt while he fixed his hair in his rearview mirror. You weren't a huge fan of parties, never had been, especially parties where you didn't drive yourself and therefore could not leave on your own accord unless you wanted to walk a few miles in freezing temperatures.

Steve promised he'd have you home at a decent time, but it was New Year's Eve, and you knew that 'decent time' wouldn't be until at least after the ball dropped. His main objective was Kimberly Kline; a former varsity cheerleader who graduated at the top of her class and the mayor's daughter. According to your best friend, Kimberly had asked him if he was going to the party when she was checking out at the Family Video last week. Steve obviously took that as an invitation, despite not actually being invited.

You were just there as a buffer, in case things between him and Kimberly didn't work out. If they did, you were on your own.

"Your hair looks fine, Steve." You mentioned as he carded his fingers through his silky, brunette locks for what seemed like the thousandth time.

"Are you sure?" He asked. "My head doesn't look too square?"

You sighed and turned to face him. "I'm not sure how to tell you this, but your head has always been and will always be square."

His shoulders dropped as he flipped the visor up and pulled the keys from the ignition. "You know what? That's just great. Thank you, Y/N. Way to boost my confidence."

You pursed your lips to keep yourself from laughing. He rolled his eyes and began mumbling to himself as he climbed out of the burgundy vehicle and shut the door behind him. You let out a chuckle as he dramatically marched off toward Tina's house, leaving you to follow.

"Honestly, Y/N," Steve turned back to you sharply and put his hands on his hips. "I was hoping you'd, I don't know, hype me up and make me feel good about myself. I'm already nervous!"

"Clearly," you laughed as you joined him at his side. "Look, Steve," you reached out and placed your hand on his shoulder. "Kimberly Kline would be totally bonkers to not want to hook up with you. So stop worrying about how you look! If that's all she cares about then you're better off honestly."

Steve looked at you sheepishly with a small blush growing on his cheeks. "Thanks, Y/N."

Before you could say anything, an old, white van sped around the corner past the two of you; tires screeching on the asphalt, leaving a trail of exhaust fumes in its wake. You could hear Iron Maiden blaring as the driver came to a hard stop in Tina's front yard, knocking over a large plastic snowman. You rolled your eyes as Eddie Munson slid out of the driver's seat and took a long drag off of the cigarette hanging from his mouth; a bright cloud of smoke hanging in the air as he exhaled.

"What a jerk," Steve mentioned, pulling you from your thoughts.

"Who? Eddie?" You asked.

"Yeah," he replied. "He thinks he's so cool."

"You know, people used to think that about you," You teased, giving Steve's shoulder a little shove as you began walking towards the party.

It didn't take long before you were standing in Tina's kitchen with a plastic cup in your hand. Your head absentmindedly bobbing to the loud pop music playing through the stereo in the living room. The New Year's Eve special was playing on the television but you wouldn't have been able to hear it. Steve had already spotted Kimberly and had downed two drinks before building up the courage to go over and talk to her.

You were leaning up against the counter, making small talk with a girl that had been in the drama club with you for a few years; catching up, talking about work and college, the usual. Steve was on the couch with his arm around Kimberly, talking animatedly with his hands, and she was smiling. He caught eyes with you for a moment and gave you a quick head nod to let you know that things were going well.

A guy you didn't recognize was aggressively making eye contact from his place in the dining room. You looked for a quick exit, knowing that at any moment he would shove himself off of the wall and stagger over to you. Excusing yourself, you tried to make your way towards Steve but were blocked off by a keg-stand in progress. You peered through the party-goers and noticed the guy was just stepping into the kitchen, ducking your head, you didn't have many options other than out the back door or a random door to your left. Wanting to avoid what would absolutely be the most awkward encounter of your life, you slipped through the closest door hoping the stranger didn't notice.

After a few moments, you considered yourself safe and turned to see that you were standing in Tina's pantry, and there, sitting cross-legged on the floor with a bag of Doritos in his hand, was Eddie Munson; mouth slightly agape, eyes wide.

"Shit," you blurted. "I didn't mean to interrupt whatever it was you were doing in here." You went to turn and leave, your hand was hovering over the doorknob, but the thought of the creep on the other side made you hesitate. "Actually, do you mind if I hang out in here with you for a minute? I'm trying to avoid some weirdo who apparently was never taught that staring is rude."

Immediately, Eddie's eyes shifted to the floor. "Uh, sure." He replied. You sighed in relief. "Unless you just want me to go out there and kick his ass."

You laughed and sat with your back against the wall opposite him. "I appreciate the offer, but kicking off the new year with an assault charge is probably not a good idea." Eddie smiled in reply and the pantry fell silent. "So what is Eddie fucking Munson doing sitting in Tina Burton's pantry?"

He looked up at you through thick, curly bangs and shrugged. "Came here to do a deal," he motioned to his little black box that you had seen a few times before. "But not really feeling the atmosphere," he drew out. "Too many jocks."

"Isn't that your van parked out front?" You asked, he nodded. "You can always leave."

"Suppose I could," he replied. "But then you'd be stuck in this pantry by yourself with a creep on the loose."

"You'd rather stay here at this lame party, despite the fact that you are completely miserable, for me?" His dark chocolate eyes connected with yours for a moment before he shrugged his shoulders. If you didn't know any better, you'd say he was shy. "You flatter me, Mr. Munson."

"What about you?" He asked, turning the tables. "You never really struck me as a party girl. I'm sure you came here with someone."

"I did, yeah, I came with Steve." You replied reaching over and grabbing a handful of Doritos from the bag Eddie was holding.

"Steve?" Eddie asked, his brows raised. "Harrington?" You nodded as you shoved chips into your mouth. "Let me guess, you were supposed to be his date but it didn't work out?"

You almost choked. "No! God, no." Eddie's eyes were probing you for an explanation but you were also hurriedly trying to swallow what was in your mouth before you began talking. "He's trying to get laid, and for fuck's sake, I hope he does. He has been such a little brat lately." Eddie laughed. "I'm his shoulder to cry on in case things don't work out for him."

"Hard to imagine that something wouldn't work out for Steve "The Hair" Harrington," Eddie replied almost critically. He flipped open his little box and pulled out a small, metal tin before producing a pre-rolled joint. Your eyes widened as he stuck it between his lips and pulled a lighter our of his pocket. "What?"

"In here?" You asked.

"You afraid we're going to get in trouble, Y/L/N?" He asked, quirking an eyebrow in your direction before lighting the end of the homemade cigarette. Eddie took a long drag and inhaled the smoke into his lungs and held it for a few moments before exhaling with a loud cough.

"Well, yeah," you replied but still took the joint from Eddie's fingers when he offered it to you. The smoke burned your chest as you inhaled, you couldn't help but cough, choking on the skunky taste before passing the joint back to him.

"You're adorable," he laughed and you immediately pouted. "Yep, that look right there. Let me just-" Eddie placed the burning joint between his lips and held his fingers up in front of his face to mimic a camera, pressing the invisible button with a click sound. "Commit that to my memory." You shook your head and giggled at his antics. "That one, too." He added, clicking his invisible camera, once more.

Sitting here, in the floor of Tina's pantry, you wondered why you hadn't hung out with him more than just the occasional drug deal. You had started buying pot from Eddie in your junior year when his band started practicing in Gareth Emerson's garage, but you had never actually hung out with him outside of that. You'd stay and watch them practice a few songs, but that was about it.

"So do you have any new year's resolutions?" You asked him after taking another hit, not wanting the conversation to die.

"Yeah, graduating," he replied as he sunk back against the wall.

"Any plans on what you're going to do after that?"

"What like college?" He asked taking one last hit before disposing of the smoldering joint in an empty can of beer, you nodded. "I don't really think I'm the college type. Besides, there's no degree for what I want to do."

"So you're going to hit the road?" You asked, "take Corroded Coffin on tour and sell out stadiums?"

"That's the dream," He replied and immediately frowned. "More like a fantasy, really."

"It's not." You reassured him. "There'll be thousands in the crowd screaming your name one day, and I'll be one of them. If I had a permanent marker I'd ask for your autograph now before you get too famous and eventually sell out."

"Never!" He laughed.

"Yeah, yeah, that's what they all say." You teased.

"What about you?" He asked in return. "Any new years plans?"

You shrugged your shoulders and shook your head. You hadn't really given much thought to the new year and you weren't the type to make any resolutions. After all, you lived in Hawkins, Indiana, a place where people didn't really make plans or have any goals outside of settling down and moving up in whatever dead-end job they were working. Every year you'd hear the same shit; "I want to lose ten pounds", "I'm going to stop smoking", "I plan to be more active", or "I'd like to read more books". They'd start off strong, but before January was even over, they'll forget they even set a goal to begin with.

Eddie had lit another joint, waiting for your response but there wouldn't be one. A silence made itself comfortable between the two of you. You could see Eddie was about to say something else, but outside of the pantry, the countdown was beginning; the last few moments of 1985. If you were to make a resolution, now would be the time to do it.

"Ten, nine-"

"We should kiss," you mentioned with a shrug of your shoulders, deciding that your resolution would be to take risks. "Wouldn't want to ruin the tradition."

"Seven, six-"

"What?" He asked, almost choking on the smoke he inhaled from the joint wedged between his fingers. His brows merged together as he coughed.

"Four, three, two-"

"I mean we don't have to," you answered, knowing that he had heard you the first time.

"Happy New Year!"

Eddie paused for just a moment, his tongue sliding over his bottom lip before he moved his hand to the back of your neck and pulled you towards him for a firm kiss. Before you had the chance to fully reciprocate, he pulled away; his eyes searching your features for any sign that he should stop- or continue. Without any hesitation, you snaked your hands around his neck and pulled him back to you, the kiss deeper this time. His lips were hot against yours as his fingers curled into the roots of your hair. Your tongue tangled with his in an eloquent dance that felt so familiar yet brand new.

You pulled away to catch your breath and looked up into his deep brown eyes which were full-blown with lust as he grabbed for you to come closer. Every few moments you'd giggle and he'd smile as you tried to navigate the positioning of your bodies in the small pantry, but your lips still made their way back to each other. His hands pushed your jacket down your shoulders as his lips left a trail of kisses along your neck. You moved to straddle his lap, desperate to be closer to him, but in the move your head collided with the shelf above, sending a couple bags of chips into Eddie's lap instead.

He couldn't help but laugh; his full pink lips stretched into a smile as he took your face in his hands. "You okay, there?"

"Ow," you winced as you rubbed a hand over your head.

"Let me see," he cooed and you tilted your head down to him. He placed a soft kiss on your tender scalp. "All better?"

"Yeah," you sighed. "Just ruined the moment, is all."

Eddie, with your face still in his gentle but calloused hands, placed a lingering kiss on your pouted lips. "You didn't ruin anything," He said softly, brushing your hair behind your ear. "Besides, we should probably get out of here."

It was hard not to notice the dirty looks on the faces of your peers as you and Eddie emerged from the pantry; some of them even pointed as they whispered to each other.

"Do you see Steve?" You yelled at Eddie over the music. "I should probably let him know I'm leaving!"

He scoured the crowd and shook his head. "Maybe things worked out for him!"

"Maybe!" You shrugged and made your way towards the front door; weaving in and out of the sweaty, drunken bodies. Eddie's hand was in yours so as to not get separated from you as he followed behind.

The air was brisk as you stepped out onto Tina's front porch, clearing your foggy mind the second you took a deep breath. You shivered as Eddie stepped in front of you, leading you to his van.

"Your chariot awaits, madam." He said, offering to open the passenger side door for you.

"Wait, one second!" You quickly dashed over to where Eddie had knocked over Tina's decorative snowman and sat him upright. "What, you hit Frosty!" You exclaimed.

Eddie just laughed and shook his head before quickly scrambling around to the driver's side and hopping in. He shoved his keys into the ignition and turned the heat on full blast. "Don't worry, she heats up pretty fast."

As Eddie backed out of Tina's yard you noticed Steve's car was no longer where he had parked it when you first arrived. You hoped that Steve didn't leave alone, and also that he didn't leave without at least looking for you first. Given that you were hiding out in the pantry for most of the night, you gave him the benefit of the doubt that if he had known where you were, he would have given you the heads up.

The drive back to your place was mostly quiet, save for the music coming from Eddie's radio. He had the volume turned low and his window was cracked as he smoked a cigarette.

"May I?" You asked, motioning towards the cardboard box of cassette tapes that sat on the floorboard between the seats.

"Go for it," he replied as he slowed to a stop at a red light. "Find something to put on." He ejected his Iron Maiden cassette and placed it back in its plastic case, giving you free rein to choose whatever you wanted.

You rummaged through Eddie's music selection, marveling at his taste. He had everything from metal to punk, the classics, and- "Hall and Oates?" You asked, almost teasing him.

"What's wrong with Hall and Oates?" He asked, snatching the tape from your hands. "Kiss On My List? You Make My Dreams Come True? Can't help but love 'em, they're catchy."

"I completely agree," you replied, still shifting through the box. "I'm just surprised is all, would have thought that there wasn't enough guitar for you."

"It's not always about the guitar!"

You picked out Bruce Springsteen and gently pushed the tape into the cassette player. Eddie nodded in approval as he began humming along to the melody. The blue lights on the dashboard illuminated his soft features, making you realize how beautiful he really was. A small smile pulled at your lips as your eyes took in the sight of him, wondering how you never saw it before.

"You're staring," he taunted, stealing a quick glance before returning his eyes to the road.

"I'm sorry," you laughed but didn't take your eyes off of him. "I just- I never realized how beautiful you are."

"You think I'm beautiful?" He asked, placing a hand over his heart and batting his eyelashes at you.

"And silly," you giggled. "But, yes."

Eddie shook his head in response, unable to hold back his smile. "You know, I had the biggest crush on you in school."

"You did not!" You gasped.

"I totally did!" He replied. "It was bad. I would take the long way to class just so that I could walk past your locker. Man, those days after school when you'd come over to Gareth's to buy some weed and you'd hang out and listen to our band- fuck!" He was shaking his head; beautiful brunette curls bouncing on his shoulders.

"I had no idea," you replied. "You were always so quiet, I thought you didn't like me."

"You thought I- what? Didn't like you!?" He exclaimed. "Come on! How could any guy not like you? You're so fucking funny! Plus, you're like actually a good person. You're compassionate and kind and smart as Hell."

"Why tell me now?" You asked as your heart skipped beats.

"I don't know, it's New Years, why not?" He answered. "Why'd you ask me to kiss you back at Tina's?"

You shrugged, "because it's New Years, why not?" Eddie smiled at your response as he pulled up to the curb of your house. You unbuckled your seatbelt and turned to face him, "I'd offer for you to come in, but I know my mom is waiting up for me."

"That's okay," he replied softly. "I really want to kiss you again."

"Yeah?" You bit your lip under his gaze.

"Mhm," he hummed.

Eddie leaned in to place his lips on yours one more time. It was slow and sweet; soft, like the glow of his headlights reflecting on the flurries of snow falling from the dark, midnight sky. You would have never thought that this night would have ended this way, but you were so thankful that it did. You weren't sure what 1986 had in store for you, but you were determined to make sure that Eddie was a part of it.

"I appreciate the ride home," you said barely above a whisper as you pulled away. "I should probably get inside, I bet-" you turned to look at your house and saw your mother's figure at the window. "Yep, she's watching."

Eddie chuckled and climbed out of the van. You smiled as he rounded the hood of the vehicle to open the passenger door for you. "Let's not keep her waiting." You slid out of his van and gave him a hug before heading up your driveway. "Maybe I'll see you are Gareth's or something?"

"Or," you turned back to him. "Maybe you'll see me at that new pizza place that just opened up? Maybe around 7:00 on Friday?"

"It's a date," he called to you as he brought his hands up to his face in the shape of a camera one last time, taking a mental photo of you before the night ended.

[jimblejamblewritings]

heart has his heart | part 3.

Summary: (Y/N) Heart is chosen alongside her friends to attend Auradon Prep. Of course her friend Mal’s mom, Maleficent, has a much more sinister plan than the kids just attending Auradon. Will they be able to pull of stealing the wand or will (Y/N) find herself liking Auradon a bit too much?

Pairing: Ben x reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: none

Previous Part | (Series Masterlist)

“This is our one chance to prove to our parents that we can do this. That we are ruthless and vicious and cruel just like them.” You heard Mal as you walked into Jay and Carlos’ room.

“Speak for your own parents.”

“Where have you been?” Mal asked when you fully entered the room.

“Uh, shopping…” the other VKs just looked at you. “What? Auradon Mall has like two hundred stores.”

“Whatever, we figured out where the wand is.”

Mal showed you Evie’s magic mirror. It was showing the museum.

“Great, how are we getting it? This isn’t breaking into a house. The museum has guards and cameras.”

“We’re working on that part.”

“So, I guess we’re going now? Alright whatever, let’s just do this.”

The museum wasn’t nearly as guarded as you thought. It was just one man watching security cameras… with Maleficent’s spinning wheel on display right behind him. Auradon really didn’t think this through. But you guess, in their defense they didn’t expect any VKs to be running around the place.  

“Okay, M. Do your thing.”

Mal pulled out her spellbook and made the guard prick his finger, sending him into a sleep. You turned off the cameras as the others located the room the wand was in. There it was floating and glowing in some blue light. Jay leaned under the railing to grab it.

“Jay, don’t!”

“M, I thought you wanted it.”

“Do you not see the light.”

“Which is just a blue light,” you reasoned. “Nothing else in this museum has any sort of protection but that guard who’s probably counting his seven hundredth sheep by now.”

What you said was good enough for Jay and he reached for the wand. As soon as his hand touched the blue light he sent back and a loud alarm came on.

“Okay, I was wrong. Definitely not just a blue light!”

“A forcefield and a siren?” Carlos covered his ears.

“That’s just a tad excessive,” Jay said getting up from the ground.

“Let’s get out of here!”

You all ran out of the museum before the guard even had a chance to see you.

“Great, Jay. Now we have to go to class on Monday!” Mal yelled as you guys kept running, even when the museum was out of sight.

You were sitting in the newly created Remedial Goodness class. It was just you and the other VKs, no shocker there. Fairy Godmother was standing at the front of the class with a blackboard and some multiple choice questions written on it.

“If someone hands you a crying baby do you: a) curse it? b) lock it in a tower? c) give it a bottle? Or d) carve out its heart?”

What sort of questions are these? It wasn’t rocket science. Evie held up her hand for Fairy Godmother to call on.

“What was the second one?”

You looked at your friend.

“E? You’re kidding, right? You’re gonna lock the baby in a goddamn tower. Mother of the year award right there. It’s C. Give it a bottle.”

“Oh well, the language wasn’t the nicest but the answer was correct again, (Y/N),” Fairy Godmother said.

The VKs looked at you impressed.

“You are on fire, girl! How are you knowing all these?” Carlos asked.

“She just picked the answer that seemed the most boring.” Mal was absentmindedly drawing Fairy Godmother’s wand.

“Or it’s called being a decent person, M.”

“Mmm. No thanks.”

“Okay, then. How about we move on to the next question Fairy Godmother?”

“That seems like a good idea.”

Before Fairy Godmother could ask the next question, her daughter Jane scurried past all of you to approach her mom.

“Hi, mom. I need you to sign off on early dismissal for the coronation.”

“Everyone here remembers my daughter Jane,” Fairy Godmother said as she signed the papers.

“Mom, no.”

“Oh, it’s alright.”

Fairy Godmother pushed Jane in front of you all. The girl squeaked out a measly hi.

“Don’t mind me. As you were.” Jane ran out the room.

“Can I go to the bathroom?” Mal asked. Fairy Godmother dismissed her.

Mal nudged your shoulder and motioned for you to go with her.

“Me too?” You asked.

Because you had been getting all the questions right, you were dismissed too. You followed Mal out the room, hearing Fairy Godmother tell Jay and Carlos maybe they should direct all their pent up energy to the Tourney Field. You and Mal followed Jane all the way to the bathrooms.

“Hi! It’s Jane, right?” Mal asked as you two lowkey cornered the girl. “I’ve always loved that name.”

“It’s very nice.” You added for good measure. You had no clue what angle Mal was playing at but you assumed it was for the wand.

“That’s cool,” Jane said trying to escape.

“Wait, don’t go!” Mal said a little too aggressively. You bumped her slightly with her hip and she switched her tone.

“I mean, we were just kind of hoping to make some friends. You probably have all the friends you need though, right?”

“Hardly,” Jane said sadly.

“Really?” you asked.

“I mean with your mom being Fairy Godmother and Headmistress,” Mal piggybacked off of you. “Not to mention your own… personality.”

“I think I’d rather go for pretty. I mean look at you guys’ hair.”

Mal looked between the two of you. “This? You know, I’ve got just the thing for that.”

She pulled out her spellbook and turned Jane’s hair from a drab bob to really pretty black layers. She took Jane up to the mirror.

“Wow, I mean you almost don’t notice your other features anymore.”

Really, Mal?

“Do my nose,” Jane said excitedly.

“Oh, I can’t. I’m not good at big magic yet and we’d want you to have a really pretty nose. But… your mother’s wand. I’m pretty sure she could do it. We should go ask her.”

Okay, Mal. You were impressed. Her plan seemed to be working.

“She doesn’t want to use the wand anymore. She thinks real magic is in the books, and not spell books. Textbooks.”

“What a rip. You know she used magic on Cinderella and she wasn’t even her real daughter. Doesn’t she love you?”

Geez, M, you thought.

“Well, of course she does. It’s just…”

“Tough love?” you interjected. If Jane felt too dejected she might turn against you two.

Jane nodded. “Work on the inside, not the outside.”

“I totally get it,” you lied. Your mother had taught you the inside meant nothing if the outside couldn’t convey it. Nasty inside was nasty out, good inside was good out. And royal hearts always looked as royal as they sounded.

Jane laughed a little before the sad look on her face returned.

“That’s it! That’s the face!” Mal yelled, startling you and Jane.

“What?”

You caught on quickly.

“Mal’s right. Give your mother one look with that face. ‘Oh mother, why can’t you make me pretty too?’ Give her that exact line and she’s got to crack. Works on my mom all the time.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah,” Mal said. “I mean isn’t that what old Cindy did and your mom bibbidi-bobbidi-booed her all the way up. And hey, if your mom does come around… mind inviting us to watch?”

“I want to ask if she can do my nose too,” you chimed in hoping you two would seem innocent.

“I mean your face is already perfect…”

“Oh, thanks.”

“But if she does, I’ll definitely let you two know. Thank you so much!”

“Don’t mention it. Just don’t forget to call.” Mal walked out the bathroom.

Jane was about to follow when you stopped her. “Hey, you do cheer don’t you?”

“Yeah, why?”

“You think it’s possible…”

“For you to join the team? We have practice later on today. Come by.”

The cheerleaders were already finished stretching as you approached the Tourney Field. Waiting for you was Jane… and Audrey. That’s when you noticed the letter ‘C’ pinned to her chest. Of course, she was captain. This was about to be a losing battle.

“Jane said you wanted to join. Let’s see what you got.”

You followed from the back lines as they went over cheers and other things. You were keeping up pretty well.

“Not bad. Take a water break and we’ll continue girls.”

You took the break as time to watch Carlos and Jay play Tourney. They were both surprisingly good at it.

“GO Jay! GO Carlos! Let’s go Jay and Carlos!” You cheered from the sidelines. Both boys stopped and turned to wave at you.

“Okay, break over. (Y/N), there’s a few more tryout things you have to do before we decide.”

“Okay give it to me.”

“Can you do a double toe touch? Back handspring? Leg extension? Back tuck? Hurdler? Basic toe touch? Pike jumps?”

“Um… we didn’t really do any of that on the Isle.”

“A simple cartwheel?”

“I can do a split.”

“She can do a split. Looks like that’s not good enough. Do we think so girls?”

The other cheerleaders didn’t say anything against Audrey but they didn’t seem like they completely agreed. Something told you that not everyone on the team could do those things.

“I mean, I’m not asking to be front line. I’ll improve. I’ll take some tumbling classes. I’ll get better.”

“But you’re not better right now.”

“Is there a problem?” You heard Carlos’ voice get as deep as he could make it.

Carlos and Jay were behind you in an instant. You guessed their Tourney practice ended. Ben and Chad Charming came strolling up as well.

“No, guys. There’s no problem. I was just trying out for cheer.”

“Oh that’s great, (Y/N). Between Jay and Carlos on Tourney and you on cheer, you guys are really fitting in here.”

“Don’t get your hopes up, Ben. I don’t have the skills.”

“Hmm?”

“No tumbling. I’m not making the cut this year.”

“That’s crazy not everyone on the team tumbles… I don’t think.” Ben turned to his girlfriend. “Audrey can’t y—”

“Ben.” You cut him off.

“I don’t need you fight battles for me. It’s cool. I didn’t make the cut, I’ll just try again next semester. Thanks for the chance, Audrey. I’ll see you other girls later, maybe? Come on guys, let’s bounce.”

You wrapped your arms around both Carlos and Jay, the three of you heading away from the fields and back towards the school.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Eww, Jay you’re so gross!” Evie said laughing as the boy was trying to fit as many chicken nuggets as possible into his mouth.

“Are they always like this?”

“Jay? Yeah, Moe. He’s pretty much always like this.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

You, Moetini, and the VKs were outside for lunch. While Jay tried to stuff his mouth with chicken nuggets, you were dipping them one at a time and eating like a civilized person. Aside from the setting, it was just like being back on the Isle. You and the gang, having fun, doing dumb stuff.

You could hear Chad, Audrey, and Ben talking from above you guys. It was whispered, but you could still hear it.

“Those kids are trouble,” Chad said.

“You guys are jumping to conclusions. We just need to give them a chance.”

“Okay, Benny-Boo, you are just too trusting. I know your mom fell in love with a big nasty beast that turned out to be a prince; but, with my mom the evil fairy was just an evil fairy… that girl’s mother. And with Chad’s mom, the cruel stepmother was just a cruel mom. And I don’t know about you but when has ‘off with your head’ ever been just a friendly saying.”

“Well, in her defense, I don’t think Heart ever said it was a friendly saying. I think you guys are wrong. I’ll see later, okay. I’ve got to see how they’re doing.”

Ben appeared at your table minutes later. “Hey guys.”

“Hello, our trusting Benny-Boo.”

You spared no one from teasing, even someone being nice like Ben. It was a talent you had.

“How much of that did you hear?”

“Try all of it. I like to listen to things.”

“Noted. Anyway, I just wanted to see how you all are doing. Especially you, (Y/N).” Ben sat down at the table.

“Me? Why?”

“I just noticed that everyone else has something to do here but you. Jay and Carlos do tourney, Mal does art, Evie has design. You’re doing nothing. I just don’t want you to get lonely here.”

“Ha. Thank you. I have Moetini and these guys I’m not lonely. And I was supposed to do cheerleading if you remember a few days ago. Didn’t work out too well, so let me wallow in my nothingness.”

“You know what I mean, Heart.”

“Do I, Ben?”

“Just give me a hobby you like and we can sign you up for something.”

“Fine, whatever. I like gardening, I guess… what?”

“Oh, I just wasn’t expecting that. I like gardening too.”

“Really?” Ben and gardening was not something you pictured.

“Yeah. My mom and dad are really into it.”

“Beast? King Beast? That’s even more shocking.”

“Gardening, you two, really? Just like old women. My dad doesn’t even do that and he’s hundreds of years old…literally,” Moetini said, making the VKs laugh.  “So, if you like gardening, what’s your favorite flower?”

“Oh that’s easy.” Ben started. “Only the best one out there obviously…”

“A rose.” You and Ben answered at the same time and then looked at each other. “Red ones.”

You and Ben stared at each other before Carlos cleared his throat and Ben returned to what he was going to say. “Yeah, so, um… we have a gardening club I could sign you up for.”

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

“And my mom’s always looking for someone to help her tend roses, if you want. We don’t grow those on campus on account of their reputation for—”

“Being difficult to handle.”

“Exactly that.”

“I swear, if people just paid attention they’d see that they’re not that hard. And the reward is so worth it.”

“That’s what I’ve been saying.”

“Tell your mom I’d be happy to help her.”

“Cool. I’ll see you in class.” You and Ben had four classes out of your schedule together.

(Part 4)...

[heliads]

If you still write for him and your not too swamped could I request Eric coulters reaction to the reader being all soft and kiss drunk (ie pressing lazy kisses to the side of his neck,on his head, at the corner of his lips etc) thanks and sorry if this is inconvenient!

no inconvenience anon i love writing for divergent

masterlist

It is halfway through the afternoon, and finally- finally- initiation is over. Only for today, but still. Eric’s just about had enough of loudmouth trainees who think they can run the faction just because they have a halfway decent mile time.

The last of them are filing out now, leaving Eric alone at long last. Look, he likes this job, honestly- it’s one of the best chances he has to actually be able to practice his skills and teach the new rounds of initiates how to be better than they are. There’s only one way Dauntless improves, and that’s by making the new initiates perform at higher levels every year. Through his work, Eric singlehandedly makes sure his faction can survive when everyone else starts to wear out.

Still, he wouldn’t mind if the trainees didn’t make it quite so difficult. Honestly, it seems impossible for an initiate to be both good and humble. Either they’re a complete asshole or they’re terrible, and there’s no in between. Eric’s not about to claim that he was a perfect angel during his own initiation, but surely he was better than this.

A voice across the room distracts him from his thoughts.

“Initiation’s going well, then?”

Eric looks up to see one of his closest friends, Y/N L/N, stepping through the door to the training room.

“About as well as one can hope. Some of these guys are nightmares.”

Y/N laughs. “Glad to see you’re enjoying yourself, then. I was about to start my own practice, but if you’d rather be left alone with your thoughts and perhaps a decent-sized drink, that’s fine too.”

Eric extends a hand towards the rest of the room. “No, go ahead. It’s probably good to have a reminder of what Dauntless are actually like outside of Four, myself, and these two dozen idiots.”

Y/N’s grin is practically breathtaking. Or, it would be breathtaking, were it not for the fact that they’re just friends and Eric definitely has a great lock on his emotions.

“Idiots? I’m starting to think that you’re harboring a little resentment towards your dear trainees.”

Eric snorts. “Nothing about them is dear. If I could throw all of them off the edge of the Pit one by one, I would.”

Y/N arches a brow, crossing the training room towards the rows of targets. The knives are still out from the earlier practice, and she picks one up, tossing it up and down in her hand to gauge its weight.

“Didn’t you already force one to dangle off the edge of the walkway with just one hand?”

Eric shrugs a little too quickly. “She was trying to back out of a fight. She only had one tiny little nosebleed and was already giving up.”

Faster than an oncoming train, Y/N rears her arm back and throws the knife at the target in front of her. It hits cleanly, a perfect shot. Not that Eric had been expecting anything less, of course. He’s grown to realize that Y/N is one of the best damn Dauntless they’ve got.

“Oh, I’m not saying you weren’t justified. I appreciate all things involving initiates and chasms that won’t get you fired.”

Eric chuckles to himself. “See, this is why you should teach initiation with me. Four doesn’t get it, but you do.”

He doesn’t have to see Y/N’s face to know that it’s a losing game. Eric has been unsuccessfully trying to get Y/N to run initiation with him for a few years now, but every time he asks, she finds some way to say no. She’s busy, or a great job opportunity just came up, or if she tried to talk to someone who wasn’t already employed in the faction, she’d lose her mind. The last excuse wasn’t the best, but it made both of them laugh, so whatever.

Eric doesn’t entirely know why Y/N will never do initiation with him, but it’s not like it really matters. Even if she’s got a great reason for not wanting to do it, which can literally just be that she doesn’t feel like it, Eric still hears the rejection. The fact that he’s been harboring feelings for her for a while now, feelings that she most certainly does not return, only makes the whole thing hurt a hell of a lot more.

So, he shakes his head before Y/N can come up with some reason to stay out of the initiation process, and forces his expression to stay neutral once more. “Kidding. I’m not even sure I want to be here for longer than a few hours, so I’m not about to make you do the same.”

Y/N glances at him over her shoulder, a faint grin still present on her face. “Good. I’m not saying that I would go so far as to fake my own death to escape having to witness an initiation that wasn’t my own, but don’t be too surprised if you hear about something like that.”

Eric laughs. “I’m beginning to think that you’re not as on board with the Dauntless process as you could be.”

Y/N points a warning finger at him. “Neither are you, I notice. Besides, it’s not like I dislike Dauntless, just the arrogant kids who come in every year. Anyways, at this moment I happen to like Dauntless quite a bit. There’s a party tonight at Darcy’s place. You should come. I’m going.��

Eric tries to ignore the sudden leap in his chest when he hears that Y/N wants him there. “Doesn’t Darcy have a party all the time? I’m starting to think that the parties are just an excuse to get drunk without being labeled an alcoholic.”

Y/N rolls her eyes. “You’re such an optimist, Coulter. Yeah, it might be that, but they’re also fun. Come on, you’ve been complaining about this round of initiates for a while. It would be good for you to escape all that for a night, right?”

Eric’s all ready to refuse, but the second Y/N looks at him with that same hopeful look in her eyes, he knows he can’t do anything.

At last, he grumbles to himself. “Fine. Her place, again?”

Y/N beams at him, strong enough that Eric swears he can feel his own spirits lifting. “Precisely. I’ll see you there, Eric.”

Yeah, he’s lost on her. Not much he can do on that front, though.

The party at Darcy’s is exactly what Eric had expected- loud music, louder people, the smell of alcohol permeating just about everything. It’s not entirely bad, though, and if Eric didn’t know better, he’d almost say that he’s enjoying himself.

That may be mostly due to his friend, however. Eric can still picture the way Y/N’s face had lit up when she spotted him, how she’d practically raced over to his side and been so excited when she knew that he’d actually come. Some part of him wants to tell her that he was only there for her, just to see her smile, but he can’t quite manage it.

A few hours into the party, Eric thinks he’s reached his fill. He looks around for Y/N, trying to find her so he can tell her he’s leaving, and at last spots her dancing with a group of friends.

She walks with him all too willingly away from the crowds, and once Eric manages to find a spot quiet enough to talk, he realizes that she’s probably had a bit too much to drink. Hell, Eric has probably made the exact same mistake, which is why he taps her shoulder and says that it’s time for both of them to go.

Y/N frowns. “What are you talking about? We just got here.”

Eric shakes his head, doing his best to be heard over the pounding music. “No, sweetheart, that was a few hours ago. Let’s head out.”

She pouts at him, but Eric manages to stay firm. At last, she sighs and relents, walking towards the door with him.

Once in the hallway outside, when the sounds of people laughing and the beat of the music are no longer keeping them up, the night catches up to the two of them in earnest. Eric walks with Y/N back to her room, remembering where it is by habit after many nights spent talking too late.

Eric intended to just drop Y/N off and go, but she grabs his hand and pulls him into her apartment when she unlocks the door.

“Stay for a while. I don’t want to be alone quite yet.”

Eric nods without thinking. How is it that he can go through his own fear landscape without batting an eye, corral dozens of useless initiates without breaking a sweat, yet when it comes to Y/N L/N, he’d follow her every word without ever being able to fight it?

Y/N walks further into her apartment, nodding her head absentmindedly to the beat of the music that is still just audible through the walls. “It was a good party, I thought.”

Eric shrugs. “Not too bad.”

She turns and faces him, laughing. “Coming from you, that’s high praise.”

Eric walks after her, and just like that, they’re looking up at each other, both of them teetering on the edge of making a mistake that they’ll never be able to fix. Y/N acts first, tilting her head up until they’re almost touching.

“I like you, Eric. I like you a lot.”

Eric shakes his head. “You’re drunk, Y/N.” You don’t mean it, no matter how much he wishes you did.

She leans forward until he can just feel the ghost of her lips over his skin, pressing on his temples, his throat, the outlines of his tattoos. He should break away, he really should, but he can’t do it. Probably because he doesn’t want to break away, he wants to move even closer, until they’re not two people but one, one spirit that doesn’t want to have to separate away into two separate bodies when the morning comes.

“I know what I’m doing, Eric. I’ve liked you for a while. Guess I’m only brave when it doesn’t have to involve my heart, right?”

Eric catches at her hands, spinning her away from him. It takes the effort of a sprinter. “I don’t want you to regret this in the morning.”

Y/N shakes her head. “I won’t. I’ve wanted this for a while. The only person to regret it would be you.”

Eric can’t stand the way her face falls, so he kisses her this time, returning the favor. “I wouldn’t regret a thing if it had to do with you.”

He could live in this night forever, he thinks. He can still feel the alcohol burning through his veins, but it’s a muted rush compared to what he feels right now with her. Maybe the morning will never come, and it will be them until eternity. Eric thinks that he’d like to see that through.

divergent tag list: @dindjarinneedsahug, @rogueanschel, @with-inked-solace

[cityburns]

Eyes half-lidded and bored out of his mind. Just a small pebble, knocking about in there. How annoying. It's nothing new; he's seen weirder shit get stuck in there, so it should really come as a relief, but Johnny didn't exactly feel like celebrating getting a rock stuck in his arm rather than whatever else usually gets stuck in there. At the very least, it's out now, and Johnny wants very little more than to be done with this.

He sticks the cigarette between his lips before taking his arm back, slotting the metal plate in the right place before practically punching it back in with a click. A final drag of the cigarette, tossing it to the side before turning over his palm and rolling his fingers. They clink against each other, as Johnny bends the elbow a few times. Almost good as new, aside from the scuffs it's acquired over the many years he's owned it ( and some change ). If it were Kerry, he'd draw a stupid face on the metal in marker. If it were Nauman, he'd say something about updating that software eventually. But it's a stranger, and of course he thinks Silverhand is all chromed up.

An easy mistake to make if you knew nothing about him, given the cyberware lining on the other shoulder. But despite the synthetic liver and his optics ( and a few other things his psyche has forgotten ), Silverhand has no desire to put any more metal in his body than is strictly necessary. Too expensive, too much a hassle to maintain, moreso now than ever before due to this newfound strange relocating as of late. Silverhand's expression sours into annoyance, bringing up the 'ganic fingers, rings shining in the sun. "Do I look like I want cyberpsychosis to you?"

He's seen what that shit does to people, even before 2077 it was a problem. And he's pretty sure his arm is half the reason he's a little fucked in the head ( but, hey, at least he's a good conversationalist sometimes ). Johnny shakes his head and rolls his eyes, but a sudden creeping doubt sneaks into him. Ever since he's been here, he's been solid. As in, touching walls and actually being able to smoke kind of solid. It's something he's not so used to after half a century locked away. Silverhand goes visibly in thought, metal fingers to chin. Like a wacko conspiracy, but it may just be true. If his body is buried in the Oil Fields ( not true, but he knew no other evidence ), then surely whatever he's piloting can't be it. Right? And if that's so...

"Fuck." Silverhand shakes its head, fingers to his forehead, pacing. "Fuck!" He really wished he were in V's head right about now. It sucked, that was no doubt, but at least he knew what he was. He was Johnny Silverhand ( or at least his engram ), not some metal toy. And yet, there's decent enough evidence to convince him he may not be as human as he thought ( although many people had come to that conclusion well before he died ). It makes him mad. It makes him terrified. "You stay right the fuck there," he growls. "Need ta think..."

( fuck, fuck, fuck! )

How is it even supposed to check? Leaking motor oil instead of blood? Craving SSDs? Having a desperate need to become a netrunner for life? Getting fucked up in the head? ( That last one, arguably, is not so big an issue; screamsheet writers have already psycho-analysed him to death with theories of ... whatever it is ). That can't be possible. Silverhand, in the flesh, but not really. If V is here, and Johnny is here too, well, that offers very little room for any other theory ( unless the Stars really did dig up his body, which would certainly not have been an easy feat, considering there wasn't so much as a marker ). It could practically burn a hole with all the pacing. Johnny turns its body to face Ford again, certainly unhappy with what it's about to say. Metal fingers point up towards the cyberware lines on the other shoulder, almost reaching to pick at them. "Y'know what, open me up."

( please prove me wrong ).

It's far from the worst look he's seen someone give him over the years. When he was younger, such looks would have gotten him to have abandoned any effort and backed down. But for him, he simply kept looking on - patience written on his face,

As his eyes scan the plate - a bit of amusement rising at him at the very idea of technology this advanced in his era of the 2010s - before he finally answered. "I'm not - but I've been to a couple of universes with similar models," he said, his tone casual as he spoke to them. "If that's all it is, it should only take a few minutes or so. I'll be careful. Let me just..."

A look of concentration had come onto his face, as he sat on the bench itself in order to better take a look at the exposed forearm, as well as slipping out a small flashlight from one of his jacket's many inner pockets. After having been given a laser pointer of all things on his arrival, Ford had made it his goal to spend his first dust on actual useful items to start out with. Maybe not as much use in the daylight as it could be, but it would give a better view of the deepest parts of the open wiring.

Carefully removing the screwdriver himself from where it had been stuck, before starting to carefully inspect the wiring, and clicking the flashlight on. First, a quick glance around to see if anything else was amiss, and to make sure he wouldn't exactly do something wrong. Looking from the connecting wires to what he presumed was the rest of the man's body. Interesting things to note - especially key differences that stuck out to Ford.

Manufacturing differences or universe differences aside, that wasn't his goal of today to inspect. He'd said he'd be fairly quick, after all. Plus, judging by the language they had used earlier as well as the look it had thrown him, probably best not to press his luck in asking any questions. Instead, he shifted a bit moving the flashlight between his fingers to adjust the beam before... "There!"

A tiny rock that had lodged itself deep. Barely anything more than a pebble really, but pressing into delicate circuitry like that was bound to cause issues. But that didn't matter as much now. His eyes narrowed a bit as he carefully moved the wires from around the area with the screwdriver, locking his concentration in, and using the utmost care to not disturb anything else. With the area clear, it was only a matter of getting it out.

Wishing he had another tool on him - this really wasn't the most convenient place to work, was it? - Ford took a deep breath before gently pressing the flat side of the screwdriver against the pebble, hoping to dislodge it. One press, quickly followed by a second before it finally moved from its spot where it has found a spot to nestle deeply, just enough room to maneuver around it. Now this was the trickiest part... carefully, he turned the screwdriver once more, trying to get under it. Once that had been accomplished, it was only a matter of lifting, lifting, careful to not bump into anything and send the rock into another part of the wiring before-

It was out. Balancing rather precariously on the screwdriver's flathead, threatening to fall in again before Ford quickly flicked it away.

"Simple as that, really," he said as he moved away now, pocketing the mini-flashlight into his front pocket next to his pen, just in case its use would be needed again. "Try giving your arm a few tests to see how it works now. If something's still off, another look may be needed."

"Ah- and is that the only part of yourself giving you trouble?" Ford said, giving them a once-over. "Nothing lodged in your other arm or anything?" Probably not with the design of it all - this one had much more ways for various elements to mess with it, but the rest seemed fairly safe with the build of it all - but better safe and sorry.